


Transfigurations

by NicePumpkinSpice



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 05:10:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 67,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5444456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicePumpkinSpice/pseuds/NicePumpkinSpice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes having the right person in your life at the right time changes everything.</p>
<p>A slow burn Dragon Age romance told from the perspective of Cullen Rutherford.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Cullen peered across the table and sized up the woman some had come to call Andraste’s Herald. Although he had seen her twice before - once when her limp body was being carried from the ruins of the Conclave and later as she skirted the periphery of a battle picking off enemies with her bow - he had yet to have a chance to study her closely. To his disappointment, her demeanor and bearing marked her as noble born. _Wonderful. Another self-important princess to manage,_ he thought derisively as he continued to examine the woman.

Her hands were unblemished except for callouses from drawing a bow and moved elegantly over the map laid out on the table before them. Every movement she made was fluid - like a dancer’s. She had no doubt been trained as such. _Useless,_ Cullen judged. _Will she waltz through the battlefield?_ Her smooth gestures stopped as her hand rested on the map where the Temple of Sacred Ashes had once stood.

“They’ve _all_ perished?” she questioned.

_You saw what was left of the temple… of course they’re dead,_ Cullen thought but said nothing. _Let someone else answer her inane questions._ When Leliana, Cassandra, and Josephine remained silent, he cleared his throat and replied simply, “Yes.”

Her brow knitted and her lower lip quivered, but she didn’t cry. “My brother was there,” she said quietly. “I was to be helping him.”

Cullen felt obligated to acknowledge her grief. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said hollowly. He’d written so many condolence letters in the past few days that the words had become nearly meaningless to him.

“Thank you,” she choked out and looked him directly in the eye for the first time. She was pretty if you went for pale, doe-eyed, and delicate looking which Cullen most certainly did not. Then she smiled at him, the skin at the edges of her hazel eyes crinkling into well worn crevices, and Cullen had to reassess his opinion of her appearance. She was stunning. He felt oddly ill at ease and grabbed at the back of his neck. Recognizing his tic, he dropped his hand and began to fiddle with papers instead.

When he finally worked up the nerve to look at her again, the Herald was no longer smiling at him but was instead in deep conversation with Ambassador Montilyet. As he had surmised, the Herald _was_ nobleborn - a Trevelyan from the Marcher city of Ostwick. Like the Pentaghasts, the Trevelyans were prolific and devout Andrastians. Every Chantry or templar barrack tended to hold at least one of them.

“Your brother - was he a templar?” Cullen asked interrupting the two women.

“No, that was to be my vocation. My brother acted as an advisor to the Divine,” she replied.

_Your vocation?_ Cullen mused incredulously to himself before assessing her physique. Like most noble women, she had a small frame. He doubted she would be able to lift a templar’s breastplate much less wear an entire set of armor. That wouldn’t have kept her from joining the Order, however. With the right family connections and donations to the Chantry, any family could slough off an unwanted heir. Cullen was particularly resentful of nobles that entered the Order that way. They often came in as adults - spoiled and entitled brats that had been tutored and pampered their entire lives. Their political ties often allowed their rapid upward movement through the ranks even if their skill sets were lacking.

“I would have expected you to become a sister,” Cullen remarked. Few women - especially few noble women - entered the Order. Templar training was physically demanding and the lifestyle austere. Serving in the Chantry was much easier and afforded more spare time.

“So did my father,” the Herald quipped and again flashed her disarming smile at him before adding, “The youngest Trevelyan is always given to the Chantry - family tradition. I refused to take a vow of chastity, so becoming a mage herder was my only option.”

_Maker,_ Cullen thought as his hand once again traveled reflexively to the back of his neck and his face flushed red. Despite his best efforts to control the impulse, his eyes took in her form for reasons other than assessing her ability to wear heavy armor. She was curvy with a small waist. _This is not good,_ Cullen warned himself before quickly averting his eyes and endeavoring to distract himself from the lurid thoughts forming in his head.

The Herald laughed at his disquiet, and Cullen suddenly felt angry. He hated this type of woman - one who knew the effect she had on people and turned it to her advantage. Solona Amell had been one such woman - capitalizing on his crush to push the bounds of acceptable behavior. That was she _had_ before Uldred ruined everything. At the thought of the Ferelden Circle, Cullen’s stomach lurched, and he had to fight hard to focus his mind. _Cassandra is watching you. Don’t show weakness,_ he advised himself as he felt a tremor from lyrium withdrawal starting in his hand. Steadying the offending hand on the pommel of his sword, Cullen straightened and did his best to look dignified.

The meeting drug on for what seemed like an eternity until it was finally decided that the Herald - also known as Anne Trevelyan- would be headed to the Hinterlands to make contact with a revered mother that was willing to work with the fledgling Inquisition. “Maker guide you,” Cullen had said to the Herald as she exited the room.

“I hope _someone_ does,” she threw back. “I have a horrible sense of direction.”

********************

Cullen thought little of Lady Trevelyan in the next two months. She was rarely at Haven spending most of her time in the Hinterlands, the Fallow Mire, or the Storm Coast. From the reports Cassandra sent back, the Inquisitor’s team was making progress building the Inquisition’s prestige and alliances. It also seemed that they were helping a great deal of people in the process. Cullen doubted that much could be attributed to the Herald other than smooth talking and carousing. _No wonder she seems to get along so well with Varric._ In all likelihood, Cassandra was the driving force behind their efforts, and the Herald was little more than a bystander that occasionally stretched her elegant hand upward to seal a rift.

From all accounts, Lady Trevelyan was a charmer - at least according to the volunteers that made their way to Haven after having been “inspired” by her. As he watched the pitiful parade of completely green recruits fill their ranks and drain their resources, Cullen wondered if the Herald might consider being slightly more selective in whom she invited to join them. Still he did the best he could to make an army out of the ragtag bunch that flocked to Haven although his throat grew hoarse from having to remind soldiers to keep their shields up during combat.

The Herald also found additional specialists that agreed to help their cause and travel with her. There was the hulking mercenary the Iron Bull who came with his very own company of fighters. Bull’s Chargers were actually an asset worth having although Cullen was uncomfortable will Bull himself. He was an admitted Qunari spy after all - something that didn’t seem to concern the Herald in the least.

Then there was Sera - an archer of questionable sanity that Lady Trevelyan had picked up in Val Royeaux. Sera claimed to run a cell of the elusive Red Jenny’s - an organization of thieves and troublemakers that targeted the wealthy and dished out reprisals for the poor. Why having this association pleased the noble born and obviously quite well-to-do Herald was yet another mystery to him.

First Enchanter Vivienne was another addition. One that Cullen actually favored. Traveling with a mage in her party was a near necessity for the Herald -she did have a swirling mass of unpredictable magic in her palm after all. Since she had to include a mage in her party, Cullen preferred the Circle trained enchanter to the self taught elven apostate Solas - at least Vivienne had passed a harrowing and wasn’t obsessed with the Fade and spirits. The Herald, of course, preferentially continued to travel with the elf which consternated Cullen to no end.

Finally, there was a Grey Warden named Blackwall. The man seemed to be a capable fighter and kept to himself. Cullen would have approved of his selection were it not patently obvious that the forty-something grizzled veteran was smitten with the considerably younger Lady Trevelyan. When they were in Haven, the Herald kept the warden busy - fetching her things, tending her horse. It was pathetic.

Outside of council sessions, Cullen largely avoided the Herald. Whenever she happened to corner him, she asked intrusive questions about his past and made him feel overall as awkward as an ungainly teenager. So when she sent him a note via Blackwall _really man, have some pride_ that she wanted to speak with him privately, Cullen was less than enthusiastic. But as her military advisor, he had little choice but to show up at the appointed time and place.

The Herald had been given her own cabin in Haven, but she was rarely there except to sleep. Instead Lady Trevelyan seemed to spend her time lounging in the tavern or flitting around camp talking to anyone with a pulse. Outgoing would be an understatement when describing her personality. Being in social situations made Cullen feel exhausted, but they seemed to energize the Herald. That said every day just after lunch she would withdraw to the chapel undercroft. Then she would emerge after an hour and a half and resume being a social butterfly until late into the night.

Cullen was surprised then when she asked him to meet her in the undercroft at what he guessed was her nap time. He’d heard nobles often rested after their mid-day meals and assumed she was no exception. She had requested that he come at half past noon, but he decided to show up early to get the meeting behind him as soon as possible. Just as he was about to knock on the door to the library she had claimed for herself, he heard her praying the Chant and interspersing the verses with requests for wisdom and courage. Her words to the Maker were exceptionally humble and unsure - a stark contrast to the glibness she normally displayed. Feeling guilty for eavesdropping on what was obviously a personal moment, Cullen turned to leave when the Herald’s voice called out, “Is someone there?”

Cullen clutched the back of his neck and considered his options. He hated liars and cowards, so he chose to answer truthfully. “It’s Commander Cullen. I’ve arrived a bit early. I can come back later,” he said through the door. He had barely finished his last sentence when Lady Trevelyan opened the door and smiled. 

“Oh, I’m glad you got here early,” she said as she took a hold of his arm and pulled him into the room. The air in the room was thick with the incense she had been burning during her prayers, and she waved her hand about rapidly to disperse it. “I sometimes wonder if the Maker wouldn’t mind if I skipped the incense. It gets overpowering rather quickly in a small space,” she commented before gracefully taking a seat and motioning for Cullen to do the same.

“You wanted to discuss something?” Cullen asked trying not to notice the wisps of hair that had come loose from her otherwise perfect chignon.

Cullen felt awkward as her hands flew up to her hair self-consciously, “It’s frizzing isn’t it? If the air is too dry, it frizzes. If it’s too moist, it frizzes. Pretty much it frizzes no matter what I do.” Then she reached out toward his hair, thought better of touching it, and simply commented, “Yours is so nice. How do you get it to behave? It’s naturally curly - isn’t it? That’s why Varric calls you _Curly_ \- right?”

“Is this why you asked me here?” Cullen queried feeling confused by the flurry of words that came out of her mouth and her odd interest in his hair.

“Oh no, not at all. Sorry, I’m a bit flustered. I usually take this time of day to reflect and pray. I get scattered if I don’t. Leliana is pressing me to make a decision by this evening and I didn’t want to make it without your input and Cassandra’s and Josephine’s…” she said in a single breath before stopping, closing her eyes, and inhaling deeply. She exhaled slowly, opened her eyes and shrugged apologetically. “Like I said - flustered. Anyway, I want you to tell me why I should seek the mages’ aid rather than the templars’.”

“But I’ve been advocating for you to go to the templars,” Cullen said hesitantly. _Is she really this much of an air head? Maker help us all if so._

The Herald laughed. “I know that, and I’ve heard all of your reasons for supporting them. I want you to take the alternate position.”

“Why?” Cullen asked.

“Because taking on another’s viewpoint helps you to see your own more clearly … or at least it does for me. Besides, you may think of reasons that Leliana and Josephine haven’t.”

“Are you having everyone argue the alternative?” Cullen questioned.

“Yes. By the end of our talk, Leliana nearly had herself convinced we should go to the templars. I’m wondering how it will go for you,” the Herald bubbled.

Cullen rubbed his forehead pensively. _Well, at least now you know why she gets along well with Sera. She’s crazy, too._

“Take your time,” the Herald said as she stood up again and fanned the air with a large tome. “The incense is really cloying. It makes my throat all scratchy,” she said while rubbing her neck. “I wonder if they make scent free incense.”

Cullen did a double take at that comment but chose not to point out that it wouldn’t exactly be incense if it didn’t _smell_. After organizing his thoughts, he outlined several reasons why it might be better to approach the mages while the Herald listened intently - occasionally stopping him to ask questions or jot down a note.

From her thoughtful questions and well reasoned arguments, Cullen had to revise his opinion that she was crazy. She wasn’t insane just exceptionally bright. He knew from dealing with talented mages that it could be difficult at times to distinguish the two. Her thought exercise proved interesting to him - much like running through an opponent’s possible moves and counters before choosing an attack strategy.

“Do you play chess?” he found himself asking.


	2. Chapter 2

Lady Trevelyan _did_ in fact play chess. They made the type of nebulous plan that one never expects to actually follow through with to some day sit down for a game. Then she stood gracefully, thanked him for his ideas on the mages, and announced that she was scheduled to talk to Cassandra in a few minutes before gliding out of the room. Cullen stayed seated and scratched his head thoughtfully. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of the Herald, He was beginning to like her - at least the her that was the flustered young woman that pined for scentless incense and fretted over her hair. The other Herald - the regal noble with carefully chosen words and seemingly choreographed movements - he wasn’t so sure about.

Later that evening when she announced that the Inquisition would be seeking the templars’ assistance in closing the Breach, Cullen felt slightly disappointed. He thought he had made some compelling arguments earlier that day for siding with the mages. A smirk crept across his face as he realized what Lady Trevelyan had done. She had had everyone argue the alternate position, so that when she announced her choice they would be less vested in one particular outcome. _Cunning._ She noticed his smirk almost immediately and a confused, self-conscious look crept over her face. _Does she really care so much what I think of her?_ Cullen thought as he stopped smirking and bowed his head slightly to her. She briefly cocked her head as if considering something and then resumed speaking in her typical glib and confident manner.

Cullen left the meeting feeling achy and exhausted. Standing around the map strewn table discussing options and strategies was just too static. He much preferred to keep moving - hovering at his desk rather than sitting, prowling the practice field correcting his soldier’s form, and sparring with his officers. Frankly, the council meetings where each advisor seemed almost glued to their place around the maps reminded him and his body too much of the hours he had stood near motionless supervising mages first in Kinloch Hold and later the Gallows. Those weren’t fond memories and only served to make his body and mind crave the lyrium he had spent the past months weaning himself off. 

He opened and closed his shield hand several times as he exited the Chantry. The tremors always seemed to start there, and he had developed the habit of resting that hand on his sword hilt to make them less noticeable. During the meeting, he had been gripping his sword’s pommel so tightly trying to mask the tremors that his hand had fallen asleep. That was another reason he preferred to stay active. When he was moving and pacing, he didn’t have to worry about people picking up on the subtle signs of his addiction - the shaky hands, sweaty forehead, and twitching mouth.

“Commander, how are you feeling?” Cassandra asked quietly as she followed him through the heavy chapel doors.

Cullen clenched his jaw. He appreciated Cassandra’s interest in his wellbeing, but her concern also made him feel on edge. It was his own doing. He _had_ asked her to watch over him as he tried to break his addiction. As a Seeker of Truth, she was well-acquainted with the signs of lyrium withdrawal as well as their potentially devastating sequelae. He had asked her to relieve him of duty if his ability to lead was in any way compromised, but he was worried that some day she might actually make that call. 

“Some aches and tremors… nothing I can’t manage,” he said curtly as he moved briskly through the village toward the practice field.

“You seem to have lost weight since I was last in Haven,” Cassandra commented with a worried expression.

“I’ve been busy. The Herald keeps recruiting people that hardly know which end to hold their swords by. Then there’s our location. Haven is a village not a fortress. I’ve been doing my best to see to our defenses…” Cullen reported defensively.

Cassandra briefly touched his forearm to interrupt him. “Cullen, I am not questioning your fitness to lead or the decisions you have made. My only concern is your health and whether you are pushing yourself too hard. How have you been sleeping? Any nightmares?”

Cullen sighed and ran a hand through his hair before answering. “I’ve had nightmares ever since…” he stopped himself from saying more. He relived what happened at Kinloch Hold almost nightly. There was no need to revisit it during the day, too. “I’ve dealt with them for many years,” he said in a tone that communicated that he didn’t care to speak about the matter further.

Cassandra’s eyes narrowed slightly before she gave a small nod. “As you say, Commander. Remember I am here if you should require assistance.”

“Thank you, Seeker,” he exhaled and then felt extraordinarily relieved as Cassandra stomped away to take out her frustrations from the meeting on the Inquisition’s practice dummies.

Early the next morning, Cullen heard the Herald laughing and turned toward the noise. She was standing on top of the Iron Bull’s massive shoulders taking aim at a target well over 200 yards away. _There is no way she’ll hit that,_ he conjectured as Bull started wiggling slightly to make the task even more difficult. But she did hit the mark - dead center. Giggling as she slid down from Bull’s shoulders, she held out her hand toward Varric to extract payment for whatever bet must have been between them. The dwarf shook his head and reluctantly tossed a bag of coin to her before walking away muttering under his breath.

“Don’t underestimate her, Curly,” Varric advised as he passed by Cullen. “She belongs in the Carta as much as she does at court.”

Cullen chuckled at Varric’s complaint and wondered if he might be able to talk the Herald into demonstrating for his bowmen. She had excellent technique, and if the depth at which the arrow penetrated the target was any indicator, a surprisingly strong draw. Perhaps she might have some tips to make his men more effective or spur them to practice harder. Making a mental note to ask her when she returned from Therinfal Redoubt, Cullen crossed his arms and turned back to his soldiers who were assembling for morning drills.

***********************  
Leliana watched Cullen as he read the preliminary reports from Therinfal Redoubt. Her face remained impassive as she studied his response. “Has there been no other word?” he questioned after setting aside the papers.

“None as of yet. The ravens can only carry short messages. I expect the Herald will have sent a mounted messenger with a more complete report ahead of her party. The news we have is troubling though - yes?” Leliana questioned.

“To say the least,” Cullen agreed. “An envy demon? Red lyrium?” He shook his head and rubbed the stubble on his chin. The idea that someone would willingly ingest red lyrium was unfathomable to him. Still he had caught some of the men and women under his command in Kirkwall doing just that - even after they had seen what simply being near the stuff had done to their former Knight Commander Meredith. Others must have gotten the same idea somehow.

“I suppose you are happy that she has partnered with the remaining templars,” Leliana commented melodically. As she spoke, her face remained a pleasant mask. Cullen noted only the faintest glints of displeasure in her eyes and voice. He accurately surmised that she was not happy with the Herald’s decision - not in the least. No traces of her disquiet would have made it past the former bard’s years of experience hiding her emotions otherwise.

“As opposed to conscripting them? It makes little difference. They’ll be bound in any event,” Cullen retorted bitterly. Whoever supplied their lyrium controlled the templars. To think otherwise was folly.

“A necessary sacrifice,” Leliana replied cooly.

_Scarily pragmatic and utterly ruthless, our spymaster. I wonder if she was like this when she traveled with Solona,_ Cullen mused. “In any event, we’ll need to prepare for the templars’ arrival. Haven is not at all what they have come to expect.”

“I agree,” Leliana echoed. “I am concerned about our mages’ reactions, however. This development will not sit well with them. Perhaps you could make it clear to them and our new allies that the freedoms they have enjoyed will not be curtailed?” she asked pointedly.

Cullen groaned but nodded his agreement. _I can’t wait to deliver that announcement. The mages won’t believe me, and the templars will think I’ve gone soft. Lovely job you got yourself, Rutherford. Join the Inquisition. It’ll be better than staying in Kirkwall. Fool._

Satisfied with his response, Leliana left his tent noiselessly. _She could have a knife at someone’s throat before they ever heard her,_ Cullen thought and then felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. _If a good spymaster was terrifying, then Leliana is a great one._

A few days later, a messenger did arrive with a lengthy report and word that the Herald was detouring through Redcliffe in hopes of also speaking with the mages there. _Is she naive or daft?_ Cullen wondered. There was no way the mages would be open to negotiations given that the Inquisition had approached the templars first and then formed an alliance with them. When he said as much to Blackwall during a sparring session, the warden had remarked that was just how the Herald operated. She considered everyone a friend until proven otherwise.

“Naive then,” Cullen judged while swinging his sword at Blackwall’s flank.

“No, optimistic,” Blackwall countered as he spun and deflected the blow with his shield.

Cullen didn’t argue the point. _Naive_ and _optimistic_ were synonyms to him. The Herald would learn. Life had a way of reinforcing that lesson.

When Lady Trevelyan returned to Haven a week and a half later, she sadly reported to the war council that the mages had left Redcliffe before she got there. “Arl Teagan was thrilled to see them gone, but I’m worried what may have become of them.”

“There were rumors of a Tevinter magister in Redcliffe,” Leliana added. “My people tried to confirm them, but it proved too difficult to infiltrate the castle. Whatever the mages were doing there, they did not want people to know.”

The Herald sighed and played with a map marker - rolling it between her fingers dexterously. “I hate that I had to choose,” she confessed softly. 

“A choice had to be made, and you made it,” Cassandra stated emphatically. “Do not doubt yourself.”

The Herald swallowed hard and continued to fiddle with the map marker - spinning it between her fingers so quickly that it was almost a blur before finally setting it back on the table. “I’m not feeling that well. Might we continue tomorrow?” she asked tentatively. Cullen didn’t doubt that she felt poorly - her skin was sallow and her eyes haunted.

“Of course, Herald,” Leliana replied. “You’ve had a long journey. Rest. We will reconvene in the morning.”

The Herald nodded and quickly took her leave.

“She has barely slept or eaten since Therinfal,” Cassandra commented once the Herald had left. “Nor has she spoken of what happened when the demon took hold of her other than to share the plans of this Elder One.”

“Perhaps you could say something that might help her cope,” Leliana suggested while turning to Cullen.

Cullen bristled. Leliana was one of the few people that knew what had happened to him at Kinloch Hold. He didn’t like being reminded that she had seen him in his worst moments - trapped and tortured by a desire demon until the Hero of Ferelden had freed him. What was he to say to the Herald - that ten years later he still woke up in a cold sweat almost nightly struggling to separate what was real from a nightmare? That he’d had little desire for intimacy and an inability to form meaningful relationships from that point forward? Not exactly inspiring.

Feeling the eyes of the three women in the room staring at him expectantly, Cullen cleared his throat and declared, “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Good,” Cassandra said firmly. “If anyone can get her to talk, it will be you.”

Cullen was uncertain what Cassandra meant by that. Getting the Herald to talk was never a problem, getting her to stop was the challenge. She was a chatterbox who spoke to literally every person she met - not only that but remembered their names and details of their conversations. Cullen envied her ability to connect with people. He struggled to recollect the names of those under his command often having to resort to calling newer recruits “You there…” until he had heard roll called often enough that their names finally sunk in. Eventually he got his soldiers’ names and histories straight, but it was only through dedicated effort unlike the Herald who absorbed such information effortlessly. 

As he left the council chambers, Cullen wondered where the Herald might have gone. He considered checking her cabin or the tavern but thought better of it. Turning to his right, he descended into the chapel’s undercroft. The thick smell of incense in the air confirmed his suspicion that she had gone to the library to pray. The door to the tiny, cluttered room was partially open, and he could hear her reciting the Chant - specifically verses from the Canticle of Trials. He pushed the door open, and she looked at him with a startled expression - her fingers laced together so tightly that her knuckles were white.

“May I join you?” he asked. She dipped her head and returned to her prayers as Cullen kneeled beside her. How often had he said these same words as he battled the memories of the demon’s torment? They had given him solace, hope, and the strength to endure when little else had.

When they reached the end of the Canticle, she reached out to Cullen’s arm. Her touch was feather-light and fleeting, but he felt deeply connected to her in that moment. She knew what he faced because she was walking a similar path. “Thank you,” she whispered as she stood and blew out the incense and candles. “It’s hard being alone, but when I’m with people they expect me to talk about it. I’ve let them know what might matter to the Inquisition, but the rest …” she stopped speaking and winced.

She didn’t need to say more. He knew what it was to have your thoughts turned against you. It wasn’t something that could be easily explained or set aside. “If there’s anything I can do, you have only to ask,” he offered though the words felt hollow once he said them.

She smiled anyway. “I know, and I appreciate it more than you can imagine,” she replied before dusting off her legs and picking up her bow. “I think I’m going to shoot some things now. Harritt makes me gather my own materials for armor - the old coot. Nugs are easier to kill, but it takes so many of them to make a jerkin. I spotted a druffalo on the other side of the lake that has my name on it. Wish me luck,” she said as she tested her bowstring and then raised the hood to her cloak.

“Be careful,” Cullen warned. “That druffalo is likely to run you over if you don’t take him down with your first shot.”

“Then I just have to make sure not to miss,” she answered with a wink before taking off.


	3. Chapter 3

To Cullen’s surprise, the Herald seemed back to normal when the council met the next morning. Was she really that resilient or simply that good at putting on a brave face? Either way he was impressed. She was made of stronger stuff than he would have expected of someone who had grown up pampered and privileged.

Toward the end of the meeting, a young man materialized in the middle of the table they were gathered around. Cullen immediately drew his sword as did Cassandra, but the Herald told them to stand down. She said that she knew young man and that he had helped her escape the envy demon’s clutches. Cullen was reluctant to sheath his sword. It was clear to him (and Cassandra from her reaction) that the _person_ that just appeared in front of them was not human.

Lady Trevelyan didn’t flinch as she began to speak with the pale young man with shaggy blond hair. Cullen counted at least three daggers on the intruder. There was no way he was lowering his sword. The Herald chastised the interloper, who she called Cole, for being on top of the table and asked him to get down. The boy complied and came to rest immediately beside her when he leapt from the table. Cullen worried it would be hard to react quickly enough to intercept the intruder if he tried to harm the Herald. He glanced over at Cassandra and noticed that she was slowly positioning herself to attack if necessary. _At least the Seeker has some sense._.

The Herald kept chatting with the young man - even after Cassandra warned her that he was not what he seemed. Cullen was flummoxed by the Herald’s reaction. This Cole - this _thing_ in front of them just happened to have “helped” when she was being attacked by the envy demon and then simply decided to tag along to Haven was dangerous. How could she be blind to the threat Cole presented? Was she playing some angle? Surely she didn’t _trust_ this thing before them. It soon became clear, however, that she _did_ trust Cole and even went so far as to ask him to stay on in Haven. Cullen was dumbstruck. Naive didn’t even begin to describe what she was. He was leaning strongly toward insane again.

During his discussion with the Herald, Cole had predicted that the templars would be arriving in Haven shortly. Within the hour, Cullen made out two glinting armored columns on the horizon. _Cole may not be human, but he’s accurate,_ Cullen thought as he called out to his men to prepare a party to ride out and greet their allies. Roughly two dozen templars were set to arrive initially. They represented the most experienced of those that survived the massacre at Therinfal. Nearly all of the Order’s more senior officers had been corrupted by red lyrium and had either died in the fighting or fled the fortress when the battle turned in the Herald’s favor. Those who remained were junior officers, knights, and scribes. _I might have been the highest ranking officer left were I still in the Order,_ Cullen considered before a more chilling thought crossed his mind. _Would I have succumbed to the pressure to take the red like the others of my rank? What happened to my brothers that refused?_

Cullen felt the aches in his joints grow more pronounced as he thought about the templars. He rubbed his chin to still his mouth from twitching. There was no separating the Order from lyrium. His body certainly hadn’t forgot as it cried out for him to just go back to his tent and prepare a draught. One phial and the pain would stop, the twitches and tremors would still, the nightmares would lessen, and his abilities would return … One phial and he would be right back where he started - a slave to whomever kept the precious blue liquid flowing. He rolled his shoulders and summoned his resolve to keep fighting. He wanted nothing more to do with that life. He had his fill of it several times over. 

After greeting the templars and showing them around camp, Cullen was exhausted and tremulous. The templars had been dosing themselves with additional lyrium in preparation for helping to seal the Breach. Their bodies sang with the stuff and the burnt ozone smell of it filled the air around them. Perhaps if he could lay down for awhile (He didn’t delude himself into thinking he might actually sleep.), the aches and tremors would subside. He had just finished removing his armor and was sitting on the edge of his cot removing his boots when Varric’s gravelly voice called out to him.

“Hey, Curly, Slick is wanting to play cards. I know you’re not sleeping, so come on - let’s go,” the dwarf urged through the canvas of the tent.

“Slick?” Cullen asked. Varric had nicknames for almost everyone, but he’d never heard that one before.

“You might know her as the _Herald_ ,” Varric intoned and then imitated the snooty airs of a butler by adding, “Lady Anne - don’t forget the ‘e’ on the end -Trevelyan of Ostwick requests the pleasure of your company at a game of chance.” Then going back into his normal timbre Varic added, “C’mon Curly. She’s had a shitty time of it. If she’s wanting to play cards, who are we to turn her down?” 

Cullen groaned and relaced his boots before standing and throwing a coat on over the rust stained linen tunic that covered his gambeson. He’d play cards with the Herald, but he’d be damned if he’d try to find a clean shirt in his dimly lit tent to do it. Emerging a short while later and silently cursing the frigid night air, he followed the dwarf to the Herald’s cabin.

She had drug a small table to the center of the room and had placed a mishmash of seating around it. Cullen had the choice of perching on top of an end table, an empty barrel, a rickety looking stool, or a legitimate chair. As the Herald tittered her welcomes and offered to take his coat, he opted for the barrel. Cullen looked askance at Varric as he picked the chair. The best seat should have been automatically reserved for the lady - even he knew that much. Iron Bull showed up moments later and Cullen ceded his barrel to the enormous Qunari. He was concerned that nothing else would stand up to Bull’s weight. 

Cullen stood awkwardly as he tried to parse out which would be the better seat of those remaining. He wanted to take the other option in deference to the Herald. He waited long enough puzzling over his choice that the Herald made it for him by hopping on the stool and patting the top of the end table expectantly. He took his place and watched in awe as the Herald began to shuffle the cards. Her hands moved so quickly that the deck became a blur as she nested the cards, spread them out quickly, pressed them together again, and then set the stack in front of him to cut. Lady Trevelyan was not new to gambling.

While Varric passed out bottles of beer, he caught Cullen’s eye and grinned, “Figuring out how she got the nickname - huh?”

As the Herald called out an exceptionally complex set of rules and wilds for the game, Cullen could almost feel himself growing poorer. He was a decent card player but from those gathered about him, he felt sure he was a flounder swimming with sharks. Bull was a spy. Varric was a professional con. And the Herald … she was _something_. When she smiled and winked at him as she dealt the cards, Cullen knew he was well in over his head.

“We play with coppers,” she declared as if intuiting his concerns about money. “Varric gets too upset when he loses otherwise.”

“I’d like to remind you, Slick, that I’m currently up twenty three coppers on you,” Varric bragged.

The Herald gave Varric what could only reasonably be termed a predatory smile as she answered sweetly, “I haven’t forgotten, Master Tethras.”

“It gives me chills when the Boss does that,” Bull admitted and then leaned toward the Herald. “You sure you’re not interested in riding the Bull? First trip’s free.”

Rather than be offended, the Herald tossed her head back and gave a throaty laugh before whispering seductively, “You couldn’t keep up with me, Bull.” Cullen nearly fell off the end table as he choked on his ale. The Herald pretended not to notice as she ante’d up.

“Have I ever mentioned how much you remind me of a friend I had back in Kirkwall?” Varric teased her after he checked his cards and then folded.

“Yes, and I’ve been righteously indignant several times. I’ve considerably more discretion than that Rivaini pirate of yours,” the Herald sniffed as if incredibly offended.

“You can pretend to be upset, but I know better,” Varric retorted.

The Herald flashed a broad smile and laughed. “You got me. Although I’m afraid I’ll have to take you out, if you say she’s prettier.”

“I’m not touching that one, Slick. I didn’t live this long dealing with the Carta and the Guild to make a rookie mistake like that,” Varric threw back.

“Are you honestly comparing her to Isabela?” Cullen asked.

“What - you don’t see the similarities, Curly? Wry humor, pretty face, great body, unrepentant cheat, and…” Varric stopped speaking for a moment to offer an apologetic nod to the Herald before adding, “wanton flirt.”

The Herald beamed at his assessment and kissed Varric’s cheek. “Just promise me that you’ll describe me as such in that book you’re writing. I’d give my left arm to see my father’s reaction.”

“You aren’t on good terms with your family?” Cullen questioned.

“Not with my father,” she answered sharply then paused. “Sorry, it’s a bit of a sore spot for me. My father disowned me when I was kicked out of the Order for _conduct unbecoming_ a few days shy of taking my Vigil. Oddly enough, the young officer that was in bed with me was allowed to stay. Sera put an arrow through him at Therinfal,” the Herald recounted before her voice grew tight and her eyes moist.

“I have a love/hate relationship with the templars and my father,” she said quietly as she examined her cards and tossed an additional two coppers on the pile. Then getting a devilish look on her face, she quipped, “I’d love to have something with that Templar Barris - though. Did you see his lips, Bull? Luscious.”

“So now we know why you made an alliance rather than conscripting them. You didn’t want to be accused of fraternizing,” Bull insinuated.

“As if I think that deeply,” the Herald rebutted. “It just seemed the polite thing to do.”

“I might have believed that ditzy thing you try to do at first, Boss, but you’ve shown your hand too many times. You don’t do _anything_ without a reason,” Bull accused.

“You flatter me, Bull,” the Herald rejoined while batting her eyelashes. “Maybe I’m just getting by on dumb luck and charisma.”

“And I’ve got an oceanside chateau in the Western Approach that I’d like to sell you,” Varric snorted.

The Herald sighed and rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I was chatting up some of the templars this afternoon to get more information on Barris. The bastard is celibate. Why do the hot ones always take those vows?” she complained before turning to Cullen. “You haven’t taken them have you?”

Cullen coughed and turned blazing red before answering, “No, I’ve taken none such vows. Maker’s breath… could we discuss something else?”

Hearing his response, the Herald looked up toward the heavens and mouthed “Thank you,” before returning her attention to the game of cards. Cullen felt dizzy. Why was she interested in his private affairs?

“Aw, Boss, you’re making Cullen blush. He’s not used to seeing you this way. He only gets to see the prima donna you pretend to be with the council,” Bull pointed out.

“I’m not _pretending_ to be anything, Bull. I’m acting appropriately for a given situation. Serious meetings demand a certain solemnity. I can be more lighthearted when playing Wicked Grace,” she explained evenly. “That is until fools try to cheat …” she growled before grabbing Varric’s hand and pushing up his sleeve to reveal a hidden card. “Honestly, Varric, I’m insulted.”

“Just trying to keep you on your toes, Slick,” Varric apologized.

“You’re as bad as Sera,” she groused. “At least the Commander is honest,” she said while looking at Cullen adoringly before adding, “Too bad he can’t bluff worth a shit. I’d have him permanently fill her seat otherwise.”

“So Sera usually plays with the three of you,” Cullen remarked.

“Yes, but she was so busy trying to prove that she’s not an elf by drinking like a dwarf that she passed out,” the Herald replied. “She really needs to work through that. I mean I get it … none of us get to choose what we’re born. The Maker had a sense of humor when he made me a noble, but you make the best of what you’re given and move on.”

“You dislike being a noble?” Cullen questioned.

“Being a noble isn’t so bad. Being a noble _woman_ is frankly awful. You’re only as valuable as your maidenhead and dowry. It’s all debutante balls and potential marital alliances … until your little sister takes a bad tumble off a horse and suddenly you’re the youngest. Then its scrap those ideas about marrying the balding baron with the bulging bankroll and useful trade routes … now you’re to be a Chantry mouse or a mage herder.” The Herald shrugged and took a drink of ale. 

“I _tried_ to be a good templar. I really did. Top marks in my class. Honing my archery skills because I knew I’d never be strong enough to manage a sword and board - much less wear full plate. Hoping that I might get to stay on at Ostwick rather than get sent to a hellhole like Kirkwall - no offense,” she said apologetically to Varric and Cullen.

“None taken,” they responded in unison.

“But _I_ was lonely, and he was handsome. So there you have it, Commander, my life story, from fresh faced debutante to templar recruit to shameful vixen. And now … Andraste’s fucking Herald. Rich isn’t it?” she said bitterly.

“So you don’t believe that you were chosen?” Cullen quizzed.

“Hardly. I’m the last person the Maker would use, but I have this,” she answered while holding up her marked hand, “So it seems that I have to at least _try_ to set things right. With any luck, the templars’ aid will be enough to seal the Breach, and I can fade back into obscurity. Maybe Bull will even let me join up with the Chargers,” she said with a flirtatious lilt as she leaned closer to the Qunari.

“You’ll always have a place with me, Boss,” Bull said in an almost fatherly tone as he ruffled the Herald’s hair.

“Damnit, Bull, I just got it to lay flat,” she huffed while patting down her wavy dishwater blond hair. “I doubt you could afford me, anyway.”

“You worked as a mercenary?” Cullen asked incredulously.

The Herald nodded and shuffled the deck for another round. “More like a consultant. I had been the belle of the ball at one point in my life which meant I’d been in nearly every noble house in the Marches. I have an awful sense of direction, so I basically memorize floor plans when I visit places to avoid getting lost. That kind of knowledge can prove quite valuable to certain people. I did a lot of work with the Jenny’s - not Sera’s branch, of course. She worked almost entirely in Val Royeaux, but the Marcher Jenny’s and I were well acquainted. I also dealt with the Crows and Carta - not my first choice, but a girl’s got to eat.”

“Your family totally turned their backs on you?” Cullen queried.

“No, they would have taken me back, auctioned me off as damaged goods, and waited for me to start popping out the grandchildren. I had the crazy idea that I wanted to be in charge of my own body, so here we are,” she explained.

“But you were with your brother at the Conclave…” Cullen interjected.

“Good memory,” she complimented. “He had specifically recruited me for my ability to blend in and collect information. I could speak with nobles, templars, and mercenaries as if I were one of them. The only thing I couldn’t manage was pretending to be a mage, but he had other people doing that for him.”

“I didn’t realize your brother was a spy. Did he work for Red?” Bull quizzed.

“Not a spy - an information gatherer,” she corrected.

“Is there a difference?” Bull asked.

“Maybe not, but he would have taken offense if someone called him a spy. He considered himself more of an knowledge broker, a businessman. He was at the Conclave offering information to the highest bidder - who happened to be Justinia at the time,” the Herald explained. 

“I would have never thought of a Trevelyan as a spy,” Cullen mused. “Your family’s reputation for piety is well known.”

“Being religious doesn’t preclude you from being a broker. It just gives you more contacts, and introduces you to people more invested in keeping certain things about themselves secret,” she answered nonchalantly.

“Like I said, Curly… she belongs in the Carta,” Varric reminded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm headed out to a Christmas party, so I've posted this before a final edit. Forgive any errors, I'll correct them when I get back. Happy holidays. :)


	4. Chapter 4

Cullen left the Herald’s cabin well after midnight. It didn’t register with him that his tremors had stopped or that he wasn’t craving lyrium. He was too busy trying to parse just who the Herald _(No, don’t call her that. She asked you to use her given name.)_ was. She was a chameleon for sure, but none of the faces she presented seemed inauthentic.

He hadn’t been surprised when the Her… _Anne_ explained that she had been kicked out of the templars. She was young - perhaps 24 at the most, but the Order was reluctant to keep anyone past the age of 18 unleashed for long. She never appeared on the rolls of those requiring lyrium - nor did she ever have the characteristic ozone smell of those who used it. Anne seemed upset that she had been expelled, but she had been incredibly lucky by his estimation.

Cullen wondered how many years she had worked as a spy - ahem _information broker_. Leliana would almost certainly know. The spymaster had collected reams of information on the Herald. Cullen had never bothered to read any of it. The Her… _Anne_ had seemed a simple enough case - a well-educated and perfectly turned out noblewoman of little practical value outside of her ability to connect with people, perform trick shots, and seal rifts. Clearly, he needed to revise that assessment.

He smirked as he replayed their parting words. She’d announced that he had proved himself worthy of finding another “chair” to put around her table and asked if he’d care to become a regular at her game nights. He had surprised himself when he answered, “I’d like that.” He rarely allowed himself such meaningless distractions. There was too much work to be done to flush hours drinking, gambling, and talking, but it didn’t feel like a waste of time being around the Her… _Anne_. And the way she had asked him … pulling him aside after the others had departed, patting down the wisps of her unruly hair, and stammering slightly as she made the offer - how could he have declined? 

When he had agreed, her entire face had lit up as she answered, “Me, too.” 

“You said that,” Cullen had pointed out somewhat cockily, and she had blushed and started patting down her hair before giving him a quick hug and saying that she’d see him in the morning at the council session.

She was _something_ of that much he was certain. Just exactly what that _something_ was he wasn’t quite sure.

*********************************

The next two weeks were a frenzy of activity as the elven mage Solas worked alongside the Herald and templars to devise a strategy for sealing the Breach. Cullen was especially harried as he scrambled to house the templars who were arriving in Haven daily and align them with the Inquisition’s forces. Overall, he was glad for their presence. Even the youngest templar knight was better trained than the majority of volunteers that had been flooding Haven in the past months. With the templars helping with drills and sparring, the Inquisition’s main forces would be whipped into shape considerably faster.

The templars’ presence brought with it some challenges - most notably with the Inquisition’s mages. Cullen had reluctantly allowed the mages broad freedoms at Haven in recognition for their willingness to help the Inquisition. With the Circles in shambles, it wasn’t as if they could be forced to serve. The templars bristled at seeing the mages walking around largely unsupervised - especially when some were recognized as troublemakers in their old Circles. Tired of hearing the grievances from both sides and overwhelmed by his other responsibilities, Cullen began to shunt the grumblers toward Seeker Pentaghast. From her vicious assaults on the Inquisition’s practice dummies, Cullen guessed that she wasn’t pleased to be dealing with the complaints either.

If all went well with sealing the Breach, the Inquisition wouldn’t necessarily need the soldiers Cullen had been training. The envy demon had shown the Herald vague glimpses of plans masterminded by someone called the Elder One, but they seemed so far fetched that Cullen doubted they were real. Demon armies? Assassinating Empress Celene? Unlikely. It was more reasonable to assume that the demon had been playing on Anne’s fears and prejudices in an attempt to better learn how to imitate her.

Cullen was looking forward to seeing the Breach sealed. It represented an enormous threat. The Herald seemed even more anxious to see it gone, but Cullen had intuited her reasons were different. Anne didn’t like being singled out or regarded as a religious figure. Her adult life had been dedicated to blending in and avoiding detection. She clearly resented how the mark made that impossible. He had overheard her questioning Solas as to whether he thought the magic in her palm would disappear along with the Breach and seemed truly disappointed when the apostate expressed his doubts that it would. She had twisted her mouth in obvious displeasure and huffed, “Well, let’s hope you’re wrong,” in response.

As the senior templars, Solas, and Anne took their positions at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, Cullen prayed for their safety. There was no guarantee that the templars would be able to suppress the wild magic pouring from the hole in the sky. Nor was it certain how the Herald would be affected by interacting with the Breach. Closing small rifts was one thing… a miles wide gash in the sky was something else entirely. She had been rendered unconscious after closing the primary rift beneath it after all. 

Solas began to issue orders to the templars, but Anne interrupted him and then kneeled. The elf seemed confused by her actions, but Cullen wasn’t. She was praying. From how her lips moved he recognized the verse and joined her in reciting from Transfigurations, “For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water. As the moth see light and goes toward flame, she should see fire and go towards Light.” 

Cullen noticed Anne take a shuddering breath before continuing, “The Veil holds no uncertainty for her, and she will know no fear of death, for the Maker shall be her beacon and her shield, her foundation and her sword.” She added, “So let it be,” before opening her eyes and fixing her gaze on the Breach. Solas gave her a look that held either pity or disdain (it was difficult to tell with the haughty elf) before addressing the templars and directing them to focus their efforts past the Herald and toward the Breach. 

The ritual began, and Cullen held his breath as his former brethren drove their swords into the ground and subdued the Breach’s magic by reinforcing reality. When the templars’ efforts were fully concentrated, Solas called out, “Now!” to Anne who extended her marked hand upward and willed the hole to close. Somehow it worked, and the vast rend in the sky welded shut as Anne slumped forward.

Cassandra was at Anne’s side almost immediately as the Seeker pushed past Solas who appeared more concerned with the condition of the sky than that of the Herald. Cullen only exhaled when he saw Anne smile faintly as Cassandra steadied her before pouring a regenerative potion down her throat. _Maker be praised. She made it._

Soon the ruins of the temple were filled with cheering as the templars, soldiers, and others present began to celebrate the successful ritual. Cullen cracked a small smile and then began to call out orders. He wanted his men to remain focused - at least until the Herald was safely returned to Haven and the mages had confirmed that the Breach was indeed shut. Then he didn’t see the harm in allowing them to cut loose some. It _was_ a tremendous victory.

By the time they returned to Haven, its narrow streets were already packed with revelers. Merchants, chantry sisters, mages, and villagers were dancing, singing, and drinking. With Solas’ assurance that the Breach was sealed and Anne being tended to by the Inquisition’s healers in her cabin, Cullen allowed all but a skeleton crew of his men to join in the raucous party. He would come to regret that decision although others would argue that it would have made little difference.

Cullen stood quietly watching the celebration when he felt a featherlight touch on his arm. He turned to see someone wearing a hooded cloak with a druffalo fur trim beside him. The wearer raised a gloved hand to her lips and pulled back the hood just enough for him to recognize her. “What are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be with the healers still?” he questioned the Herald.

Anne grinned mischievously. “I couldn’t very well miss my own party, Commander. At the same time, I actually want to enjoy it - hence the cloak.”

“How are you feeling?” he quizzed.

“My arm hurts like a son of a bitch, and my fucking hand still glows. Other than that, I’m great. I can’t believe it worked. I thought I was a goner for sure,” she admitted.

Cullen chuckled at her blunt response. “So how do you intend to join in the festivities _and_ avoid detection?”

“I thought I’d enlist the aid of a certain taciturn Fereldan in requisitioning ale then see if he wanted to meet me at the old apothecary’s shack near the lake. I plan to celebrate, Commander. I just don’t plan to do it as part of a crowd,” she explained.

Cullen wasn’t quite sure how to respond to her invitation. It wasn’t as if he wouldn’t like to spend time with Anne. Still it wasn’t exactly appropriate, and she might expect more to happen between them than just sharing a few ales. She hadn’t been subtle in expressing her interest in him. Of course, she was flirtatious with nearly every man she encountered. He’d even heard her coming on to the surly merchant Seggrit for Maker’s sake. His hand flew to the back of his neck as he tried to formulate a response.

“Oh come on, Cullen,” Anne laughed. “I’m inviting you to share a few drinks not my bed. Trust me, I won’t mince words when and if I invite you to do the latter.”

Cullen coughed uncomfortably _Am I really that easy to read?_ and then consented to getting a few bottles of beer and meeting her at the cabin. She grinned triumphantly before moving through the throng of people unnoticed.

_Rutherford, what are you getting yourself in to?_ he wondered as he tossed a few silvers to the barkeeper Flissa and collected the ale. He had nearly reached the main gate when the alarm bells started ringing. Pushing the bottles into a nearby reveler’s arms, he raced over to the nearest lookout’s perch and commandeered the soldier’s spyglass. Scanning the mountains that surrounded Haven, he saw scores of torches moving steadily down the paths leading toward the village. The columns were marked with no banners, but he could make out glinting armor and weapons in the torchlight. Whoever was approaching would be attacking not joining in the celebration.

The Herald had materialized beside him a few moments after the bells started tolling. She had looked utterly terrified - especially after an apparent defector from the opposing forces had pointed out the gigantic monstrosity of a Blighted magister that was orchestrating the attack. Anne’s voice had been shaking as she asked Cullen for his battle plan. His years of training kicked in as he called out orders and mustered his men. The next hours were a blur of bloodshed and bravery. Cullen led his soldiers against the enemies that streamed down the mountains toward the village. His soldiers and engineers with the Herald’s assistance stopped many of them with avalanches caused by aiming trebuchets loaded with boulders at the mountainsides. Those that reached Haven were faced with a combination of templars, soldiers, and villagers standing their ground. 

Amongst the fighting, Cullen caught glimpses of Anne and her traveling companions. While some like Cassandra and Blackwall were in the middle of the fray, the Herald moved around the edges of the battle, picking off combatants with deadly accuracy. Working alone, Anne never stayed in one place for more than the time it took her to line up a shot. She would aim, fire, and nearly disappear as she crept silently along walls and rooftops looking for her next target.

It felt as if they were winning and they probably _were_ set to rout the invaders, when the dragon appeared in the sky. It breathed fire over the village -indiscriminately killing Inquisition soldiers, villagers, and even their enemies in its attacks. Anne again appeared at his side. Her druffalo trim cloak had been discarded revealing well fitted leather armor also made of druffalo hide. _Her druffalo hunt must have been successful,_ Cullen thought with a smirk as he nodded toward her. Her hair which had been in a neat bun earlier that day hung in a messy ponytail down her back and her eyes were wide with fear as she looked to him for guidance. He had little to give. “At this point, just make them work for it,” he advised tersely.

Cullen saw Anne’s eyes hardened as she took in his words. Moving through the corpses scattered near the main gate, she gathered arrows from the bodies and restocked her quiver before telling her party that they would be heading back out. “We’re behind you, Boss,” Bull encouraged as passed out healing potions from a cache he’d ran across.

“I hate these pointy helmet wearing arsebiscuits and their friggin’ dragon,” Sera griped as she restrung her bow. “So, Herald, what’s your kill count? Loser’s buying when this shite’s over.”

“I’ve lost track,” Anne lied numbly. Her face was pale and drawn as she ran a hand over her forehead and then gagged when she realized that she had smeared her face with blood from the scavenged arrows.

Cullen felt an intense urge to pull Anne away from the fighting - to get her to safety and away from the gore. She was many things, but she wasn’t a warrior. That much was clear. He’d seen the hollow look Anne was wearing before on templars that never recovered from what they’d been forced to do to survive when a harrowing failed or a Circle annulled. He didn’t want that future for her, but he couldn’t sequester her either. Withdrawing the Herald from the fighting would communicate to his troops that he felt their position was hopeless - a self-fulfilling prophecy, so he tried to think of some way to draw her away from the dark thoughts besieging her mind.

“Annie, forget what Sera said about keeping score. When this is over, drinks are on me,” Cullen shouted to her - not even noticing that he had used a diminutive of her name.

To his relief, the Herald’s face brightened as she threw back, “I want a decent Antivan brandy. None of this Fereldan piss water. Understood, Commander?”

“Whatever the lady wants,” Cullen replied with a deferential bow.

“You’re likely to regret saying that, Curly. Slick’s got expensive taste,” Varric warned before following her out of the gate. As Cullen turned to receive reports and then rally his men, he said a quick prayer that he’d be spending his next paycheck on buying brandy.

***********************  
It was nearly dawn when Cullen stepped away from the makeshift camp they had established earlier that night high in the Frostbacks overlooking what had been Haven. Their position there _had_ become hopeless, and Anne along with some of her companions had volunteered to distract the enemy forces long enough for what remained of the Inquisition to retreat above the tree line using little knowns paths frequented only by penitents once visiting the Temple of Sacred Ashes. It had been his plan to bury Haven under an avalanche to take out the enemies pressing down on them. He had never meant for her to be the one to put that plan into action.

Shortly after they’d arrived in the clearing and began to set up tents, Cullen had ordered some of his soldiers to account for everyone that had been known to have been in Haven that night. With the assistance of Leliana’s ciphers, the lists had been cross-referenced and consolidated. There was some good news - a little girl presumed killed had been reunited with her parents. Some soldiers thought dead or missing being located instead amongst the wounded or with a different unit. Their losses had been heavy. They had been caught off guard and underprepared. That was his fault.

He unrolled the list and took in the names by the weak rays of the dawn’s light - first of the dead and then of the missing. The final entry - written in Leliana’s hand - hit him the hardest. _Anne Trevelyan of Ostwick - missing presumed dead_. 

At the end, Anne had sent her party away to join the retreat. They’d learned that much when Blackwall, Cassandra, and Solas stumbled into camp a few hours after the bulk of the evacuees arrived. The magister and his dragon had shown up just as they had finished readying the trebuchet to launch the boulder that would bury Haven in a rockslide. One of his officers - badly wounded in the fighting- had even offered to remain behind to set off the trap, so that the others could safely reach the tunnels that stretched below the village and into the mountains. Anne had made them carry him out as she stayed behind - the well heeled, glib tongued noblewoman faced down a dragon and still managed to set off the trebuchet when given the signal. He had been wrong about her not being a warrior. She most certainly had been.

He closed his eyes and began to pray when he felt a featherlight touch on his forearm and then heard a weak, but still charismatic voice declare, “It had better be a damned good vintage, Commander,” before Anne Trevelyan of Ostwick passed out in his arms.


	5. Chapter 5

Cullen, Cassandra, Leliana, and Josephine stood huddled together in the courtyard of the fortress Solas called “Skyhold.” The elven mage had led them there a few days earlier. Cullen had been overall pleased with the development - the fortress was imminently defensible and in very good condition considering its age. His only niggling worries were _how_ the apostate had known about Skyhold and why it had been vacant - as if waiting for them. Dismissing his concerns as being related to the prejudices against mages that he had been actively trying to shed, Cullen focused his efforts on establishing patrols, reoutfitting his soldiers, and prioritizing repairs to the enormous stone keep. That was he had been doing those things before the arguments over who should assume the title of Inquisitor had began.

Cullen clutched his sword’s pommel and stared up at the sky. Sometimes being the lone male amongst the Inquisition’s leadership was painful. Josephine and Leliana in particular had been talking circles around each other for far too long. He decided to be blunt with his opinion in hopes that it might move the discussions forward. “Cassandra should be named Inquisitor,” he said firmly. “The rest of us already have clearly delineated responsibilities. She helped found the Inquisition and understands what is at stake. The Seeker is fair minded and a good decision maker. She won’t allow us to get bogged down in trivialities and debates.”

“While that is a flattering assessment of my abilities, Commander, I have no interest in heading the Inquisition. I know my limits. I am a warrior - not a leader,” Cassandra retorted after giving an amused snort. “We’re avoiding the most logical solution. The Herald would be the best choice - especially after the events at Haven.”

“She is quite charismatic and well versed in protocol,” Josephine observed. “There are a few incidents in her past that might cause some alarm amongst the nobility, but they can be discredited easily enough…”

“Why deny her former associations?” Leliana asked coyly. “A little fear can engender a great deal of respect and loyalty. No, the nobles should be made aware of just how dangerous the Herald can be - even if we do not choose her as our leader.”

“She is so very young for such an important roll,” Josephine fretted.

“How young is she?” Cullen quizzed. He kept meaning to read the dossier Leliana had compiled on the Herald but still had yet to do it.

“Twenty one,” Leliana answered. “I’ll merely remind you that Maric and Loghain were younger when they began their fight against Orlais. And Solona…” Leliana’s voice broke slightly at the mention of the Hero of Ferelden. “Solona was barely nineteen when she ended the Blight.”

“Let us hope that the Herald won’t share the Hero’s fate,” Cassandra said gently. “I know she was a dear friend to you.”

“That was many years ago,” Leliana replied cooly - her spymaster’s mask firmly back in place. “My point was simply that being young doesn’t preclude someone from being a good leader.”

“Has anyone asked Anne if this is something _she_ would want?” Cullen interjected.

“On a first name basis with her, Commander? Interesting,” Leliana remarked with a cagey glint in her eye.

Cullen’s hand flew reflexively to the back of his neck as he stammered, “She requested that I use her given name.”

“I’ll bet she did,” Leliana teased. 

“Maker’s breath!” Cullen cursed in exasperation as he tried not to blush.

“She’s a pretty one, the Herald,” Leliana continued poking at Cullen just to watch him squirm. “A little young for you, but I doubt she’d mind.”

“For the love of… if anyone should be accused of trying to rob the cradle, it’s that lecher Blackwall not me,” Cullen argued.

“Ooohh and jealous, too,” Leliana giggled. “Tell me - is she aware that you are fond of her?”

“Fond? I’m nothing of the sort,” Cullen declared a little too emphatically.

“This will be most interesting to observe,” Leliana cooed to Josephine who covered her mouth with her hand and snickered her agreement. 

Cassandra made a disgusted noise and directed the conversation back to the matter at hand. “I doubt anyone has approached the Herald, Cullen. She is still recovering from her injuries, and I think we all know what her answer would be. She has less interest in being a leader than I do. That doesn’t mean she isn’t the right person for the job.”

“I agree,” Leliana said with a nod. “We name her Inquisitor, and let her complain about it later.”

“Shouldn’t her desires have some consideration?” Cullen protested. 

Leliana seemed taken aback by the vehemence of his response and then a sly grin settled on her lips. “Go on, Commander. We’d love to hear you champion your lady’s cause.”

Cullen growled in the back of his throat and then snarled, “What I was trying to point out is that _the Herald_ has had few choices in the past months. Perhaps we should give some thought to her wishes.”

“No,” Leliana, Cassandra, and Josephine said in unison. Cullen had hoped to push them into some sort of agreement, but he certainly hadn’t intended this outcome. _Anne is going to be livid._

To his surprise, the Herald took their decision well - graciously accepting the mantle of Inquisitor before a roaring crowd a few days later. Just when he thought he had her figured out, Anne reacted contrary to his expectations. Could one woman really be so complicated?

The Inquisitor showed up at the makeshift office he had made for himself in Skyhold’s lower courtyard early the next morning. She waited patiently as he heard reports and issued orders - only arching her eyebrow when he barked at one of his soldiers that didn’t respond quickly enough to suit him.

“Things are progressing well?” she asked hesitantly.

Cullen noticed that she wrinkled her nose when he called her “Inquisitor” as he described establishing guard rotations and seeing to Skyhold’s defenses.

“It’s better than _Herald_ , but I still don’t like _Inquisitor_ ,” she commented about her new honorific. “Don’t you think it odd?”

“Not in the least. You’ve more than proven your commitment,” Cullen answered.

Anne twisted her mouth and shrugged. “I guess it makes sense on some level - I was always breaking the ties in the council, and I’ve got the friggin’ glowing hand. I’m just pissed that Cassandra managed to get out of attending the meetings entirely. I thought it was Leliana that I had to watch out for being cagey - not her.”

Cullen chuckled. “You mean you don’t enjoy hearing Josephine wax on about the political ramifications of the colors chosen for the Inquisition’s banners?”

Anne snickered and then looked pensive before saying. “Anyway, I just wanted to say that I’m glad that you … I mean that we all made it out of Haven.” She started to frantically pat down her hair and nearly went cross eyed as she spoke. Cullen didn’t understand why she was so obviously flustered. It had been a harrowing experience - one that they were all fortunate to have survived. There was no shame in admitting being relieved about making it through.

He felt like he owed her an apology, though. If he had done a better job of preparing his men or fortifying Haven, perhaps their losses wouldn’t have been so heavy. Not to mention that it was his plan that had sent her out on what was essentially a suicide mission to buy time to evacuate. “You could have…” he said quietly but stopped short of saying _died_ before speaking more authoritatively. “I will not allow the events of Haven to occur here. You have my word.”

“Is that the same word that promised me brandy? Because I’m still waiting, Commander,” she needled.

“I haven’t forgotten… it’s just that we aren’t exactly situated near a market,” Cullen replied suddenly feeling very sheepish for not having followed through.

“Just remember that my expectations get higher the longer I have to wait,” she said with a coquettish lilt that made him wonder if she was speaking about more than just brandy. She smiled invitingly and then turned on her heel to head toward the stables. He tried very hard not to notice the sway of her hips or the ample curve of her rear as she walked away. _Too young, too complicated, too …_ he told himself before furrowing his brow deeply as he caught sight of her speaking with Blackwall. The scribe standing nearby recording Cullen’s orders took a few steps back as a murderous glare appeared on Cullen’s face. Whatever his Commander was about to dish out, he didn’t want to be the one to take it.

*****************  
Outside of council sessions, Cullen saw little of the Inquisitor in the following weeks. Rather than staying at the keep, he spent much of his time in the valley below Skyhold with the bulk of the Inquisition’s forces. While there, he oversaw construction of facilities for his men, reorganized his troops, and created a training regimen for new recruits. 

For her part, Anne stayed busy trying to keep Cassandra from killing Varric. The Seeker had interrogated the dwarf about Miriam Hawke’s whereabouts roughly two years after her disappearance from Kirkwall. Varric had claimed that he had no knowledge of where the former Champion of Kirkwall was hiding, but Hawke had shown up at Skyhold at Varric’s urging shortly after the Inquisition settled there.

Miriam Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall and Queen of Calamity, had not only been a party to events inciting the Mage-Templar War. She had also unwittingly released Corypheus, the Blight stricken magister who had attacked Haven, from a prison constructed by the Grey Wardens to contain him. Having crossed paths with her several times in Kirkwall, Cullen always flinched whenever Hawke became involved in “solving” a problem. She was well-intentioned but catastrophically unlucky. Who else would have a best friend that stole and then lost sacred Qunari texts nearly causing a war with the Qun or would fall in love with an abomination that would later blow up a Chantry to make a point about mages’ rights? Only Hawke could manage to have luck (or perhaps judgment) that bad.

Shortly before Anne left for Crestwood to follow up on a lead provided by the Champion, she showed up in Cullen’s new office early one morning looking disoriented and harried. She sat down on the edge of his desk which made him wince. There were so many bottles of ink and other breakables on the desk - not to mention irreplaceable maps and reports. Still she was his superior, so he stayed silent. 

“You’re a templar - right?” she quizzed.

“I was. I’m not one any longer,” Cullen corrected.

Anne scrunched up her face. Her experience with the templars told her that it wasn’t an organization that let go of its full-fledged members lightly. Still she had other reasons to be in Cullen’s office than to play semantics about whether he could still be considered a templar. “Whatever… what I’m asking is that you are acquainted with magical phenomena - correct?” she clarified.

“Yes,” Cullen replied.

“So what’s your take on Dreamers?” she asked while avoiding looking at him and fiddling with the quills on his desk.

“They’re exceptionally rare. I can’t think of a recorded case of one in centuries - although there were rumors of one living in Kirkwall’s alienage for a time. We never located him, though. Why do you ask?”

“So along with a constant pins and needles sensation and the ability to seal rifts, this little gem lets me be one,” she said while holding up her marked hand.

“A dreamer?” Cullen questioned.

Anne nodded and then pushed off the desk. She began pacing around his office while twirling a quill between her fingers. “So here’s what happened… Last night I thought of a question I needed to ask Solas. It wasn’t really that big of a deal - just something about those elven artifacts that he claims strengthen the Veil when activated… Anyway, that’s not the point… I go down to his office and start talking. Then he’s suggesting _Let’s go somewhere more interesting_ \- and all of a sudden we’re in Haven. And not the buried under half a mountain Haven … Haven like it was before.”

Cullen folded his arms and cocked his head, “You had a weird dream. That isn’t particularly unusual.”

“Just listen… you’ll understand how it wasn’t _just_ a weird dream. So Solas is showing me around Haven, talking about studying the magic in my hand and worrying about the Breach. Still - just a really funky dream probably brought on by eating anchovies too close to bedtime - right? Wrong. I argued with something he said, and he responded _Don’t you realize where we are? Let’s discuss it more when you wake up._ Then I was back in my bed - wide awake.”

“I’m not seeing the problem,” Cullen responded evenly. Solas wouldn’t be his first choice of someone to dream about, but it wasn’t cause to panic. “You just had a very vivid dream.”

“No, it wasn’t just a dream! When I saw Solas this morning, he asked me about it. He remembered it, Cullen, because the Solas in my dream wasn’t a figment of my imagination - it was really him. _I_ had contacted _him_ in the Fade while we were both asleep. Solas knew what was happening right away because _he_ is a dreamer.” As Anne spoke, she leaned against one of the bookshelves in Cullen’s office and started to hyperventilate.

“Take a deep breath. Here have a seat,” Cullen advised as he cleared a stack of books from a chair and encouraged Anne to sit down. She took a few shaky breaths and then continued, “So my question for you is - am I a mage? Because I _really_ don’t want to be one. Talk about being a candidate for tranquility … Maker.”

“You are not a mage,” Cullen replied calmly as he poured a glass of water and gave it to Anne. “You do have magic in your hand, however. The fact that you can interact with rifts proves that. It seems plausible that the mark could give you another magical ability as well, although it is remarkable that it would be one as rare as being a dreamer.”

“Yay, I’m remarkable,” Anne said with feigned enthusiasm after she gulped down the water. “I’m just so tired of weird shit happening to me. Varric likes to make fun of me for it, but it isn’t funny, Cullen. Normal people don’t have glowing hands or envy demons trying to eat their minds or dragons and nine foot tall, thousand year old magisters chasing them around. I want to go back to being _normal_. I’d even settle for slightly eccentric at this point, but the weird shit has to stop. I’m just not cut out for it.”

“You seem to be managing well,” Cullen countered.

“Really? Because I feel like I’m one step away from losing it entirely,” Anne sighed as she slumped back in the chair and then picked at a loose thread on her leather leggings. “I’m sorry I came in here in such a tizzy. I just didn’t know who else…”

“Annie, it’s fine,” Cullen interrupted. “I don’t mind. My door is always open to you.”

“You just called me _Annie_ ,” she pointed out. “You did it before … back in Haven.”

“I’m sorry, Anne … Inquisitor. I didn’t mean to be informal. It won’t happen again,” Cullen apologized.

“No, no… that’s not it at all. _Annie_ is what my father called me … at least before we stopped speaking. I like it, and I like how it sounds when you say it… so don’t stop - okay?” she asked tentatively.

“Okay, _Annie_ ,” Cullen agreed with a small smile which the Inquisitor returned with an ear-to-ear grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday today, and I've been stuffing myself with cake and writing fluff to celebrate.


	6. Chapter 6

Cullen couldn’t help but smile back at Annie. “Stay right there,” he ordered. “I have something I need to give you.” He shimmied up the ladder in his office that led to his quarters and grabbed a bag off the top of his footlocker before sliding down the ladder and jogging back over to the Inquisitor.

“Brandy - as promised,” he said while handing the bag to Anne. “That merchant in the courtyard - Betty? - she’s incredibly well connected. I had barely mentioned that I needed a good brandy and a week and a half later I got a message that she had several options from which to choose.”

“Bonny… her name is Bonny,” Anne corrected. “But you’re right about her being good at filling special orders.” Anne opened the bag and squealed, “Cullen, this isn’t just brandy. This is _the_ brandy. Maker, I’ve only had sips of this vintage. My father always poured some for the men in the family on Satinalia. My brother Caleb would sometimes let me have a little.” Anne’s eyes turned teary as she spoke. “This is… this is really special, Cullen. Thank you. Consider my expectations met and exceeded,” she announced before popping out of the chair and ambushing Cullen with a warm hug.

Cullen wasn’t quite sure what to do with his hands as the Inquisitor squeezed him tightly, so he initially stood stiffly but then finally figured he should at least return the gesture. After patting her a few times on the back _that’s the right thing to do in this situation - isn’t it?_ , he waited for her to let go. When she did, she glided across the room, scooped up the brandy from the chair where she’d left it, and handed it back to him. 

“I want you to keep it safe for me,” she declared. “Save it for a special occasion, and we’ll drink it together. I adore Dorian, but he’s a total lush. The second he catches sight of this he’ll be guilting me in to sharing.”

“Do you think him trustworthy?” Cullen questioned. The Tevinter mage’s appearance in Haven just before the assault seemed overly convenient to Cullen. Anne had, of course, welcomed him with open arms. _She did ask that demon Cole to stay. Why shouldn’t a necromancer be afforded the same courtesy?_ Cullen thought cynically.

“You should make an effort to get to know him, Cullen. He can be a bit smug at times, but he’s an absolute riot. I’m not taking him with me to Crestwood. Promise me that you’ll at least talk to him. I think the two of you could be good friends,” Anne encouraged.

_Me? Friends with a mage - and a Tevinter one at that? Blind optimism and naivety don’t even come close to describing Annie._ Cullen thought but found himself replying, “Alright, I’ll talk to him,” when her wide eyes looked at him expectantly.

“Yay!” she gushed before clapping her hands together. “He tries to act as if he doesn’t need anyone, but it’s obvious to me that he’s very lonely. I’m relieved you’ll be looking out for him while I’m away.”

“Who are you taking with you?” Cullen questioned.

“Varric, of course. Hawke is his friend, and he’s really entertaining. Taking Varric precludes me from bringing Cassie, they aren’t exactly getting along well.”

“Excuse me … did you just call Seeker Pentaghast _Cassie_?” Cullen interrupted.

“Yes,” Anne drawled.

“And you’ve called her that … to her face?” Cullen queried.

“Yes…” Anne answered.

“And you’re still alive?” Cullen clarified.

“Last I checked,” Anne quipped. “Listen … Cassandra’s first words to me were, ‘Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you,’ and that was before she spent hours browbeating and interrogating me. Then she _persuaded_ me at knife point to go out and fight demons when I’d barely been conscious half a day and my hand was trying to kill me. Just when I think we’re finally seeing eye to eye, she up and names me Inquisitor then skips out on the war council. Enduring a nickname is the least she owes me. Besides, I think she kind of likes it.”

“You think she likes it,” Cullen repeated incredulously.

“Well, she doesn’t make that funny grunt/snort anymore when I call her Cassie, and it’s been ages since she’s given me a good murderous glare,” Anne twittered. “Of course, she may be one of those people who can have only one person on their shit list at a time. In which case, I’d better make sure she stays peeved with Varric.”

Cullen rubbed his forehead and chuckled. There was to be no doubt about it … Annie was insane. “You mentioned Varric … who else?” he quizzed once he stopped laughing.

“Vivienne. After the whole dream thing, I’m not sure when I’ll be bringing Solas with me again,” Anne said and then shivered. “And Blackwall… he’s wanting to show me something up on the Storm Coast, so we’ll meet up with Hawke’s warden friend and then go up there. I really hate the Storm Coast. It never stops raining which I guess explains the name, but still… all that moisture makes my clothes mildew and my hair starts looking like I’ve been hit with a lightning spell. I know I don’t have to tell you what a pain it is to have curly hair … and mine isn’t even actually curly. It’s like it can’t decide whether it wants to be wavy or straight, so half of it lays flat and the rest just explodes…”

“For what it’s worth, I like your hair. It suits you,” Cullen said gently.

“Really? You’re the first person to ever say that. My governess was constantly assaulting it with a brush and trying weird tonics. And my mother was always complaining about how it dimmed my marriage prospects…” Anne stopped speaking and smiled shyly. “I’ve taken up enough of your time rambling, Commander. I’ll leave you in peace for now, but perhaps we could play that game of chess you once mentioned when I get back,” she said self-consciously before turning to leave.

“I’d enjoy that,” Cullen replied with equal self-consciousness and then added, “Almond oil.”

“Almond oil?” Anne questioned while wrinkling her forehead.

“You once asked how I manage my hair. I use almond oil,” Cullen replied.

“Ooohh, that explains why you always smell so delicious,” Anne exclaimed and then went cross-eyed and started patting her hair furiously before she raced out the door.

*********************

Cullen climbed the stairs to Leliana’s rookery in a cold fury. He’d be damned if he’d allow her to steal an asset out from under him. The Inquisitor’s message that she had captured a fortress just outside the village of Crestwood had arrived only hours before, but the spymaster was already making plans to move her agents to the keep. The idea of having a fort full of spies was entirely contrary to the notion of remaining covert. Forts were for armies … his army specifically - not the willowy elves and smooth-talking lowlifes Leliana artfully referred to as scouts and agents.

“Hello, Commander. I was wondering when you’d come thundering up here,” Leliana said with an overly sweet smile.

“Why is it I’m seeing your people preparing to leave for Crestwood?” Cullen growled.

Leliana's sweet smile turned threateningly smug as she passed a piece of parchment to Cullen. “I’m only following orders, Commander. You’ll see that it was the Inquisitor’s idea to base our spies in Crestwood. She noted that the fort’s deceptively large size and many underground tunnels would make it easy to move people in and out unnoticed. Not to mention that Crestwood is nestled along trade and diplomatic routes between Denerim and Val Royeaux. A few of our people scattered in taverns and shops throughout the area will gather an invaluable amount of information.”

“You don’t need an entire keep for a few people,” Cullen argued.

“No, but I do need one to house the people that will decipher and act on the information we gather,” Leliana countered. “Now don’t pout, Commander. We’ll still need your soldiers at Crestwood. Their numbers will camouflage the location’s true purpose as well as provide security so my people can work unmolested. Besides I’m sure if you continue to play nice and look pretty, the Inquisitor will find you a fortress of your very own one day,” Leliana gloated.

Cullen grunted and pounded a fist on the balcony that rimmed the rookery. “Fine, but I’ll be damned if my men will play servants to your agents,” he said derisively.

“As you say, Commander,” Leliana cooed before turning back to her work and humming to herself contentedly.

*************************  
Cullen stood hunched over his desk dreading the conversation he was about to initiate with the Inquisitor. While Anne was away in Crestwood, Cassandra had pointed out that he should inform the Inquisitor about his stopping lyrium. Deep down, he knew Cassandra was right - the Inquisitor was his superior and deserved to know that the leader of her forces was battling addiction. 

Anne was more than his superior, though. She was one of the few people that Cullen counted among his friends. It wasn’t that he disliked people. He was just guarded by nature and preferred to focus on his work rather than socializing. Annie wasn’t one to let him stay behind his carefully constructed walls of professionalism. She’d talked him into joining her card games, and he found himself looking forward to them even though he nearly always lost. Whenever she was in Skyhold, she’d often appear in his office and chatter happily while leaning against his desk or one of his bookshelves. Typically he wasn’t one for idle banter, but Annie’s ideas were so unusual and her voice so pleasant that he didn’t mind. In fact, he missed her random observations, gossipy tidbits, and occasional complaints when she was gone. 

Annie also respected and relied on him, and he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy that. While most of her trips into his office were for lighthearted reasons, she also came to him when she was troubled. The decisions she made as Inquisitor weighed heavily on her - especially when they resulted in lives being lost. “This is why I worked alone,” she’d told him in a shaky voice after a particularly painful choice between pursuing Red Templars or saving ambushed veterans. “I can take care of myself. I can’t take care of everyone else - no matter how hard I try.” 

Ironically given his own misgivings and fears, Annie also sought him out whenever she needed reassurance about dealing with all the magic in and around her. While she put on a brave face around others, she confessed to Cullen that she was absolutely terrified of the mark and its powers. She was also obsessed with the idea that it was getting larger - even filching a set of calipers from the armory and keeping daily records of its measurements. When Cullen had repeated Solas’ assertion that the mark was stable, Anne had wrinkled her nose and lamented that she had to rely on the musings of a Fade-addled mage for comfort. 

Cullen was staring at his lyrium kit and mentally rehearsing what he wanted to tell Anne when she slipped into his office unnoticed. “You needed me?” she asked.

Cullen bolted upright upon hearing her voice. Typically, she entered his office talking or laughing - not in stealthy silence. _She can approach as quietly as Leliana,_ he realized. Knowing that didn’t make him uneasy like it did with Leliana. Instead he was relieved. Avoiding detection would keep Anne safer than the leather armor she preferred.

“Is that your philter?” Anne questioned while walking toward his desk.

“Um… yes, that’s actually what I wanted to speak with you about,” Cullen responded while clutching his neck.

“Is there a problem with our rations? Between my sources in the Carta and Josephine’s connections in Orzammar, I thought we had our needs met. We do have a lot of templars - and mages for that matter- using it, though. Are we running short?” Anne hypothesized.

“No, our supplies are more than adequate,” Cullen answered before launching into the speech he’d prepared in his mind. Anne stood in stony silence as he described the hold lyrium had on templars and how he had stopped taking it when he joined the Inquisition. He was confused by her expressionless quiet as he talked. She typically spoke freely and rarely hid her emotions outside of bluffing at cards. He had expected that she would interrupt him several times over as he tried to explain his situation. She instead stayed blank faced and nearly unresponsive until well after he had finished.

When she finally spoke, her voice was detached. “This could kill you, Cullen.”

“It hasn’t yet,” he’d jested weakly. Anne didn’t laugh. She studied the floor as she appeared to weigh her words.

“My Uncle Ethan was a templar - stationed at Ostwick in fact. I adored him. When his memory began to…” her voice broke off as her eyes went back to the floor.

Cullen stayed quiet. Anne was obviously well-acquainted with the long term effects of lyrium use. He thought that would make her understanding his choice simpler not harder.

“He had to retire,” she finally continued. “A servant found him hanging in his room a few weeks after he came home to live with us. He left a note …” she stopped speaking but Cullen could guess the rest. Her uncle had tried to stop taking lyrium. Suicide wasn’t an uncommon outcome amongst those cut off.

“Anne, I’m not… I would _never_ ,” Cullen said while extending his hand toward her shoulder.

She brushed aside his touch. “You don’t understand. You didn’t know him. He would have said the same thing and meant it,” she shouted.

“I thought you would be concerned about my ability to lead,” Cullen said quietly. “I didn’t realize… just know that Cassandra is watching me closely. She won’t allow my choices to compromise the Inquisition.”

Anne gave him a hard stare and then sighed before saying, “I’ll defer to Cassie’s judgment on this. My emotions are… I’m too …” She ran her hands through her hair and exhaled deeply before continuing, “Just take care of yourself, Commander. You’re important to a lot of people”


	7. Chapter 7

When Annie left, Cullen worried that things might never be the same between them. He paced around his office before heading over to the dossier Leliana had prepared on the Inquisitor. He still hadn’t read it and wondered if her uncle’s death was mentioned in it. If he’d known about that, he would have taken an entirely different tack when approaching her about his addiction. He leaned against the ladder in his office and began to skim the report. 

He snickered when he discovered her middle name was “Lucille.” _I thought ‘Stanton’ was bad…_ Then he made a mental note of her birthday. _1 Bloomingtide 9:20 Dragon. Born on Summersday - that should be easy enough to recall_. Skimming over the section detailing her early childhood, _Maker, Leliana is thorough. I see no reason to know what age she was toilet trained…_ , he read more closely once he reached her adolescence.

_Sent to finishing school in Cumberland at the age of thirteen, introduced to society at fifteen …_ Cullen paused when he read that Anne had been formally betrothed shortly after turning sixteen. _That must be the balding baron she mentioned…_ The engagement was broken when Anne’s younger sister was killed in a riding accident, and Anne entered templar training within weeks of her sister’s funeral. _She barely had time to grieve…_

Leliana had somehow managed to get records of Anne’s two years with the templars - no small feat considering the state of the Order and the Circles. He grinned as he read over her instructor’s assessments as they closely mirrored his own. 

Recruit Anne Trevelyan (Note: niece of Knight-Captain Ethan Trevelyan -retired, deceased) 

Pros -bright and conscientious student, quick and accurate archer, strong faith 

Cons \- overly outgoing, divergent thinker, inappropriately familiar, abysmal sword skills

Recommendations for Placement \- Ostwick Chantry guard; Her friendly demeanor will put forth a good public face for the Order. She is not, in this instructor’s opinion, well suited for working within a Circle. Her nature makes it unlikely that she would maintain the necessary emotional distance from her charges. 

Cullen flipped through the papers to see if there was any other mention of her uncle. To his relief, there wasn’t. _At least I don’t need to feel guilty about that…_ he thought before heading to the section of documents detailing her dismissal from the Order. He was set to read about her lover when he heard Anne clear her throat.

“Sifting through my secrets, Commander?” she questioned in a tone that straddled the line between flirtatious and accusatory.

“I.. uh… well, um…” he stammered before regaining his composure. “I was unaware of what happened to your uncle. I’d never bothered to read Leliana’s report on you and was concerned that it might have mentioned something,” Cullen admitted.

“I doubt it. That’s a well-kept family secret,” Anne answered tersely before drawing closer and looking over Cullen’s shoulder at the papers. “When you’re finished with that, could I take a gander? I wonder if Leliana found any of the good stuff on me.”

“If by _good stuff_ you mean the name of your first pet, then yes. Otherwise, it’s been fairly dry reading so far,” Cullen joked.

“Hmm… how far in are you?” Anne asked as she glanced at the page. “Oh, I was still with the templars then. No wonder you think it boring. Trust me, it should get considerably more interesting once I got kicked out,” Anne remarked saucily before lightly touching Cullen’s forearm to get his full attention. 

“I came back to apologize for my reaction earlier. What you’re doing is incredibly brave, and I support it wholeheartedly.” she said sincerely. “You just caught me off guard. I thought you’d asked me here to…” she stopped speaking and started patting down her hair. “Anyway, I just felt like I needed to say that. You can go back to sorting through my dirty laundry now,” she said with an embarrassed blush as she spun around to leave.

“Annie, wait. Why did you think I’d asked you to come here?” Cullen questioned.

If Cullen had been positioned differently, he would have seen the Inquisitor go temporarily cross-eyed as she scrambled for a convenient lie. Ever a quick thinker and a good bluffer, Anne had a reasonable cover prepared by the time she turned back toward Cullen. “Oh, I thought you were finally going to show me how good you are at chess. Dorian told me that you trounced him.”

“Dorian would do well to concentrate on his strategy instead of trying to use force spells to move pieces when he thinks his opponent is distracted,” Cullen commented dryly.

“I suspected Dorian might be a bit of a cheat,” Anne laughed.

“And what about you, Lady Trevelyan … are you an honest player?” Cullen quizzed.

“Of course, Commander.” Anne rebutted with faked indignation then needled, “If your skills at chess are anything like they are at Wicked Grace, it’d be cruel to make the game any more difficult for you to win.”

“I had planned to finish reading this,” Cullen said as he dropped the dossier into a drawer in his desk before locking it. “But I can see that someone clearly needs a lesson in humility. Meet me in the Chantry courtyard in ten. I’ll bring the board, Inquisitor.”

“And to think I’d planned on taking it easy on you at first,” she lilted. “You’re going down, Serah Rutherford.”

“Confidence is a beautiful thing,” Cullen threw back. “Just make sure yours isn’t misplaced, Anne _Lucille_.”

“Ugh! I can’t believe Leliana put my middle name in there,” Anne groaned before fuming, “That bitch! And to think I just gave her an entire keep…”

“I would have never included such horrific details in any dossier I prepared,” Cullen teased. “Too bad about that fort…”

“Next one’s yours, Commander. You have my word,” Anne promised.

**************************

Anne delivered on that promise when she traveled out to the Western Approach to investigate the Grey Wardens - capturing Griffon Wing Keep in the process. The derelict fort had once belonged to the Wardens and had subsequently been overtaken by Venatori. The Inquisitor was so proud of having gotten him a fort that she’d handwritten the note to him sharing her success. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he’d hoped for something located somewhere other than the edge of a literal abyss. _It’s the thought that counts…_ he reminded himself as he tried to determine how to best use such a remote location.

The utility of the Griffon Wing Keep soon became clear when Anne’s report of her first encounter with a contingent of the wardens arrived days later. Their mages were working with a Venatori magister and actively summoning demons in hopes of creating an army to take the fight against the Blight to the darkspawn and old gods living deep underground. Cullen questioned Anne’s decision to leave Hawke in charge of finding out where the bulk of the warden’s forces were located. If someone could find a way to screw something up, Miriam Hawke would. At least her warden companion Alistair was reliable. He had helped end the 5th Blight after all.

Anne’s plan was to detour southeast on her return trip to Skyhold and seek out a potential ally named Fairbanks who was helping refugees in the Emerald Graves. Her hope was that she could stabilize that region while Hawke and Alistair tracked the wardens and then return to Skyhold to plan the Inquisition’s response. Cullen thought she was pushing herself and her companions too hard - and had said as much in his correspondence. They had had to fight their way west through the war torn Exalted Plains to reach the Approach and now she was going to be battling on her return trip home. He had to give credit to Anne. She was far from the lazy noble he had anticipated her being. If anything, she needed to be encouraged to pace herself. There was no telling how long the war would last.

Cullen decided to send his second-in-command Knight-Captain Rylen out to the Approach to run Griffon Wing. Rylen was a sensible templar from Starkhaven - a problem solver and hard worker. If anyone could lead repairs on the fort and manage soldiers in inhospitable conditions, Rylen was the man for the job. He had proven himself invaluable to Cullen when he’d come to help with relief efforts in Kirkwall after the destruction of the Chantry, and the two had become good friends in their time working together. When the Inquisition formed, Cullen had relied heavily on the Knight-Captain to maintain discipline and improve facilities. The Commander had other capable officers, but none had Rylen’s rare combination of compassionate pragmatism and badger-like persistence. His presence at Skyhold would be missed.

************************

Anne and her inner circle arrived back at Skyhold five weeks after she announced she would be returning from the Approach. Hawke and Alistair had made it there a week prior and had already debriefed the war council on their findings. The situation was more grave than Cullen could have ever dreamed - the entirety of Ferelden and Orlais’ wardens were gathered at an old fortress named Adamant, and their mages had plans to continue to summon and bind demons. What those mages didn’t realize was the blood magic ritual they used to bind the demons bound them in turn to none other than Corypheus. 

Assaulting a fortress filled with wardens was bad enough. They represented some of the most talented (and ruthless) fighters in all of Thedas. But to add in demons? The battle would be hard fought. There was no way around it.

Cullen hadn’t seen Anne since her return from the West and had to do a double take when she entered the war room. Her skin was tanned, and her hair sun streaked. Fighting and riding had strengthened her once delicate physique without diminishing her curves. While he had always found her attractive, Cullen was dumbstruck with how she looked when all traces of her genteel facade had been stripped away. Leliana caught Cullen staring, gave him a sly grin, and then commented with unabashed glee, “Inquisitor, we’ve been awaiting your return. Some of us more than others…”

“We certainly have,” Alistair commented before giving Anne a kiss on the cheek. Both Leliana and Cullen’s jaws dropped open at the same time as Anne smiled shyly and pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear before clearing her throat.

_You’ve got to be kidding me. First he takes Solona, now Annie,_ Cullen raged inwardly as he glared at the maps before him. Cullen was so caught up in his angst that he didn’t see that Anne looked specifically at him when she said, “I’ve really missed you. It’s good to be back.”

Cullen didn’t even bother to make eye contact with Anne before launching into his assessment of what preparations they would need to undertake to successfully assault Adamant. He was a third of the way through his discussion of siege equipment and armaments before he bothered to even glance at Anne which took some effort considering that she was directly across the table from him. When he did look at her, he saw that she was watching him pensively.

After Cullen finished speaking, Josephine expressed her concern that there wouldn’t be sufficient time to lead the assault on Adamant before Empress Celene’s peace talks which were scheduled to be held in six weeks at her Winter Palace in Halamshiral. Leliana emphasized the importance of an Inquisition presence at the talks which were to be held concurrently with a grand ball. “Let us not forget that Corypheus wants Celene dead,” Leliana reminded. “What better place to stage an attempt against her life than at a crowded party.”

“I see no reason why we can’t prepare for both,” Cullen grunted. “I’ve no place at a ball. I can lead my soldiers out to the Approach and make preparations for the attack while the rest of you prance about in your finery.”

Josephine gave Cullen a cold stare before responding. “I’m afraid that isn’t possible. As leader of our forces, your presence at the ball is mandatory, Commander. It would send entirely the wrong message if you were absent.”

“Only in Orlais would it be more important for me to stand around a punch bowl than attend to my army,” Cullen snarled.

“Mock the Game all you like, Commander. Its importance is not to be underestimated. The Inquisition is not so strong or well-supported that we can ignore the most powerful nation in Southern Thedas,” Leliana pointed out. 

“I agree with Cullen - at least in part,” Anne interjected. “We have to address both situations concurrently. In the upcoming weeks, we should concentrate our efforts on preparing to besiege Adamant - that means locating or constructing siege machines, moving troops westward, and establishing reliable supply and communication lines. It will take a coordinated effort on all our parts to see that accomplished.”

“While we will prepare for the attack on Adamant before Celene’s ball, we’ll have to wait until _after_ it to actually begin the siege. I have to be present at both - the ball because I’m the Inquisition’s leader and Adamant because the Venatori can and do open rifts deliberately,” Anne remarked.

“Where I disagree with the Commander is with his assessment that he needs to travel with his men,” Anne said with an apologetic nod toward Cullen. “He is needed at Halamshiral although I understand his reluctance to attend. Orleasian parties are frankly awful although the food is usually good.”

Turning to Josephine, Anne continued, “Ambassador, I know that you want me to spend the next six weeks preparing for the ball exclusively. That is unnecessary. If there was one thing I was raised to do, it was to attend events like this. I already know the people involved - their heraldries, lineages, and peccadilloes. I know the dances, etiquette, and protocol. I don’t need to practice or review. I spent the first sixteen years of my life being groomed for this and the next five exploiting everything I learned. I can’t promise that we’ll be successful at preventing Celene’s assassination, but I can assure you that I won’t embarrass the Inquisition.”

When the Inquisitor finished speaking, her advisors grudgingly accepted her recommendation. They had no better options. Corypheus was moving quickly on many fronts. They had to match or exceed his pace if they wanted to stymie his plans. Hawke, who had spent the entirety of the meeting sitting in a window sill drawing lewd shapes in the moisture on the glass, finally spoke, “I’ll do whatever I can to help. Corypheus is my responsibility. I thought I killed the bastard once. I’ll make sure of it this time.”

As the room emptied out, Anne put her hand on Cullen’s forearm and stopped him. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

“I’m very busy, Inquisitor. Is there something in particular you require?” he asked stiffly.

Anne looked wounded as she replied, “No, I suppose not,” before dropping her hand. “I just… never mind.”

“Shouldn’t you catch up with Alistair? I’m sure he’s missed you,” Cullen said crossly.

“Alistair?” Anne repeated with confusion.

“Your boyfriend,” Cullen snapped.

Anne’s eyes grew wide and then she broke into an amused smile. “Alistair is adorable, funny, and sweet, but so is my brother Arlen. I’m equally attracted to both of them which is to say not at all.”

“But he kissed you,” Cullen protested.

“On the cheek,” Anne retorted while pointing to her face.

Cullen grabbed the back of his neck and mumbled, “Well, this is awkward.” 

“It’s alright, Cullen. I missed you, too,” Anne said before giving him a quick kiss on the cheek and slipping out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone.


	8. Chapter 8

Cullen left his office to get a late breakfast and saw a large collection of his soldiers standing on top of one of the as-of-yet unrestored towers staring and pointing at something on the battlements. Aggravated by their loitering and concerned that the tower’s roof wouldn’t withstand their weight, Cullen stormed toward the tower and nearly ran headlong into Iron Bull’s chest.

“On your way to enjoy the view?” Bull laughed lustily. “Gotta say it made my morning.”

“What are you talking about?” Cullen growled. “I’m going to see my soldiers off that tower and back to work.”

“Hey, they’re your men. I’m not questioning how you lead them. I’d just suggest you take a look at what they’re staring at before you create a ruckus dispersing them. You’ll regret it otherwise … I know I would at least,” Bull chuckled before slapping Cullen on the shoulder.

Cullen scowled and considered asking what Bull meant but decided he’d rather just see for himself. Reaching the tower roof, Cullen didn’t even have to say a single word before his soldiers dispersed looking sheepish and fearful under the weight of their Commander’s glower.

When they had left, Cullen walked to the roof’s edge and peered at what his men had been gawking at on the battlements rather than attending to their duties. His mouth nearly dropped open at what he saw. Two women were laying on a fur blanket surrounded by dwarven heating runes. The women, who were exceptionally fit and additionally well-endowed, were laying on their backs, wearing only their small clothes, and had towels positioned over their faces. Cullen’s hand flew to the back of his neck as he tried to make himself stop staring. 

Turning away from the spectacle feeling embarrassed, confused, and slightly aroused, he called out to one his guards below to tell the women to move. Upon hearing his voice, one of the women sat upright … the towel falling away from her face. Miriam Hawke waved warmly to him as she elbowed the other lady, who he quickly discovered to his horror and (if he was being honest) delight was the Inquisitor. Anne was slightly more circumspect about her condition than Hawke and clutched the towel she had previously been using to cover her face to her chest.

Cullen didn’t even know where to begin, so he merely waved dumbly back at Hawke and the Inquisitor. Hawke grinned from ear to ear and then stretched like she was a cat waking up from a nap while Anne scrambled to put on a robe while furiously patting her hair and blushing ruby red. A few minutes later Cullen somehow found himself standing near the odd set up, struggling to make sense of what Anne and Hawke were up to.

“Might I inquire what exactly the two of you are doing?” he asked.

A robed but silent Anne looked helplessly to Hawke who was resting on her elbows completely unconcerned about her state of undress. “Enjoying the sun,” Hawke replied with a saucy grin before running a hand through her short black hair seductively.

Cullen’s ears turned pink as he faced Anne. “You seem to have forgotten your clothes.”

“Oh, we didn’t forget them. We weren’t wearing them on purpose. Of course, it’s frightfully cold up here - even with a coat. That’s why we had the heating runes and fur,” Anne offered and then fell silent again before reaching up to pat her hair.

“Your hair is fine,” Cullen smirked. “Care to explain why you decided to leave your clothes behind thereby distracting a sizable proportion of my morning guard rotation?”

“They saw us?” Anne said with marked alarm before turning to Hawke, “You said that no one could see us from the battlements.”

“Not from the battlements,” Cullen agreed. “But the watchtowers are another matter entirely.”

“Oops,” Hawke said with feigned contrition while Anne buried her face in her hands.

“I should have known better than to listen to you,” Anne hissed to Hawke. 

“Don’t be upset. Ask the Commander to join us. He’s looking a bit pale - don’t you think?” Hawke countered while using her elbows to push her breasts closer together to create cavernous cleavage.

“I … uh… ahem… I hardly see how that would be appropriate,” Cullen stammered before saying, “You still haven’t explained what exactly the two of you are doing.”

Anne sighed and opened up her robe. “My face got tanned in the Western Approach but the rest of me is butt white,” she explained as she gestured to the pronounced tan line at the base of her neck. “The dress I’m wearing to the ball is strapless, so I wanted to even things out. Hawke offered to keep me company.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re only in your small clothes,” Cullen observed.

“I thought I’d shoot for an overall even tone,” Anne explained.

“In that case, I suppose I should be relieved to see you wearing anything at all,” Cullen quipped.

“See Cullen gets it,” Hawke piped up. “I told her she should skip the bra band at the very least.”

“Maker, that’s not what I meant at all,” Cullen exhaled.

“Well, we’re both scarcely darker than we were when we started, and you’re blocking our light,” Hawke hinted.

“You aren’t honestly going to continue - are you?” Cullen gasped.

“I really need to look my best,” Anne said apologetically as she disrobed and laid back down beside Hawke. Then with a shrug of her shoulders and a coy grin, Anne added, “You’re right, though. I should be thorough,” as she unfastened her bra band.

“Atta girl,” Hawke said while shedding her own bra. Cullen didn’t see, however. He had already high-tailed it the second Anne reached back to loosen hers.

************************

Cullen took in the result of Anne’s tanning sessions as she exited the carriage bringing her to the Winter Ball. Her hair had been curled in perfect spiral ringlets which hung to the middle of her back, and she wore a strapless emerald green ballgown with a beaded corset and belled skirt. She was flawless - even Josephine and Leliana nodded approvingly as Anne passed by.

He had been so busy preparing for the assault on Adamant that he had barely spoken with Anne in the intervening weeks. Anne had been preoccupied as well. Although she had planned on remaining at Skyhold to rest and regroup, she ended up traveling to nearby Emprise du Lion to provide relief to villagers trapped by a frozen river. Anne had made the mistake of bringing Hawke along with her, so the entire trip which was supposed to be a simple mission to provide supplies for the beleaguered townspeople instead turned into a pitched campaign against entrenched Red Templar forces. 

Anne and her party made little headway before retreating back to Skyhold. They had arrived under-equipped and with minimal reinforcements, and simply didn’t have the supplies or numbers to expel all of the enemy forces. Cullen was relieved that Anne showed the wisdom to withdraw. At her debriefing, Anne had expressed feeling guilty for leaving - especially considering that there were rumors that villagers were being forced to work against their will in the area’s mines. She understood, however, that she couldn’t risk getting bogged down in Emprise while Halamshiral and Adamant loomed on the horizon. 

In the meantime, Leliana sent a cadre of her spies to the region to scout the enemy strongholds, and Cullen ordered a unit of his men to hold the encampments Anne had been able to secure before her retreat. The Inquisitor had made it clear that she wanted to return at the earliest opportunity and didn’t want the gains (although meager) that she had made to be lost. Cullen took care to remind her that she had secured a foothold in the area and had sealed several rifts as they reviewed plans in the war room. If her furrowed brow and twisted lips were any indicator, Anne was unsatisfied with her performance. _She expects more of herself than anyone can accomplish,_ he thought.

If the months she spent traveling and fighting had made her tired, Anne showed no indication as she glided toward Duke Gaspard in the courtyard of the Winter Palace. She was the picture of a sheltered and pampered noble. The woman who had been pulling pranks with Sera and singing bawdy tavern songs with Bull’s Chargers a few nights before looked regal, polished, and aloof as she curtsied before Gaspard and then took his arm. _A chameleon, an absolute chameleon,_ Cullen mused as he watched her pass through the palace gates.

While Anne appeared to be having the time of her life as she mingled, flirted, and danced, Cullen was absolutely miserable. He had tried to find an inconspicuous alcove at the party in hopes of quietly passing the hours people watching and avoiding small talk. Instead he had boxed himself into a corner and was now surrounded by an amalgamation of Orleasian nobles - both men and women - who were vying for his attention. As they smothered him with compliments and come ons, Cullen tried to remain polite - a task that grew increasingly difficult as they patted and pinched his bottom with frighteningly increasing frequency. Just as Cullen thought he might lose his cool and punch the masked Marquis that refused to leave his rear alone, Anne appeared. 

After pulling Cullen away from his admirers, Anne teased him mercilessly for having developed such a following in so little time. Cullen was in no mood. The long hours he’d been working preparing for the assault on Adamant coupled with being placed in a stressful social situation and having a lyrium withdrawal induced headache made his temper short. It also didn’t help seeing multiple nobles get handsy with Anne - not that he had any claim on her other than friendship. So when she asked him if he might care to dance with her later, Cullen abruptly and rudely shut her down. He was a soldier not a prancing fop, thank you very much. After taking his rejection without comment, Anne left his side quickly, and he was soon surrounded by the barracudas known as Orleasian nobility once again.

Somehow amidst all the dancing and elbow-rubbing, Anne had managed to uncover the plot against Celene. She had also gathered incredible amounts of scandalous secrets and other information for Leliana and Josephine to use at will. Cullen had no clue how she had accomplished so much. It seemed as if she was never away from the ballroom for more than a few minutes at a time. Yet if Cassandra’s terse reports were to be believed, the Inquisitor had fought several Venatori as well as having sealed a rift in those brief instances when she’d disappeared. 

Cullen’s brow wrinkled as Anne approached Empress Celene - her spiral curls bouncing as she moved purposefully across the ballroom. “What is she doing?” he whispered to Cassandra. “The attack is likely to happen at any minute.”

Cassandra shrugged. “This is her element, Commander. I trust that she has matters in hand.”

Cullen reached for his sword instinctively and then grunted when he realized he was entirely disarmed. Anne didn’t need his protection, however. In short order, she revealed the plot against Celene and persuaded the Empress to arrest her cousin the Duchess Florianne for masterminding it. A short while later, Celene was celebrating the Inquisition and promising Orlais’ aid against Corypheus.

“She certainly didn’t oversell her abilities,” Leliana commented to Cullen as she watched Anne graciously accepting the praise of the throngs of nobles present. Cullen nodded his agreement before Leliana continued, “I thought you would want to know that Morrigan will be joining us at Skyhold.”

“The witch that was with Solona?” he questioned with obvious displeasure.

“The very same,” Leliana replied. “She had been serving as an occult advisor to Celene.”

“You can’t be serious,” Cullen snarked.

“Evidently, Celene encountered some ancient elven mirrors - _eluvian_ \- as she tried to escape Gaspard’s ambush that started the Civil War,” Leliana recounted.

“Let me guess,” Cullen said cynically. “They’re _magic_ mirrors.”

“Correct,” Leliana said with an amused sniff. “And Lady Morrigan has been studying them. Celene believes they could be used to our advantage … or she’s tired of her magical pet and wants to rehome her. The Inquisitor seems pleased with Morrigan’s addition to our numbers.”

“She would,” Cullen said gruffly. His head was throbbing and the knowledge that yet another person that had seen him at his worst in Ferelden’s Circle would be living at Skyhold put him in no mood to talk. He brushed past Leliana and stalked toward the exit - nearly running into Morrigan as she came into the ballroom from an attached balcony.

“Well, well …” Morrigan crooned in her low voice, “Look who we have here. It is good to see you, Commander - especially under more advantageous circumstances.”

Cullen gave Morrigan a piercing glare. “I hear that you’ll be traveling to Skyhold, Lady Morrigan.”

“News travels quickly I see,” Morrigan remarked her yellow eyes eyeing him closely as her lips formed a thin smile. “I’m sure Leliana is positively gleeful to see us reunited.”

Cullen continued to glare at Morrigan silently before he remembered something that might put the supercilious witch in her place. “Oh, it’s not just the Nightingale that is at Skyhold. Your dear friend Alistair is there as well.” From the disgusted look on Morrigan’s face, Cullen knew he had correctly read the group dynamic so many years ago when Solona, Alistair, Morrigan, and Leliana had freed him from Uldred’s torment. “Have a good night, Lady Morrigan,” he said with a smug grin as he bowed to the sorceress and caught sight of Anne on the balcony.

His mood vastly improved by rankling Morrigan, Cullen went on to the balcony to check on Anne. “I know it might seem silly, but I was worried for you tonight,” he said softly as he placed a hand on the small of her back.

When she looked over at him, Cullen couldn’t remember a time he had seen Anne look more exhausted. “I thought it would never end. I just want to drown myself in spiked hot chocolate and sleep until the next age.”

“But I thought you were having fun,” Cullen remarked. “It certainly seemed as if you were.”

“I was working the entire time, Cullen. Every move, every word had to be perfect. That by itself is enough to make me want to drink myself into oblivion, but when you consider the last time I was at a party like this, it was one announcing my betrothal …” Anne exhaled.

“Did you care for him - your fiance?” Cullen asked and then wanted to smack himself for being so intrusive.

“I didn’t love him, but he was the type of person I could have grown to love. I was actually looking forward to married life - hosting parties, choosing draperies, birthing babies…” Anne said wistfully and then snorted. “Talk about naive.”

“You no longer want that?” 

“What I want is irrelevant, Cullen. My chance for domestic bliss ended years ago. The best a person like me can hope for is a quick tumble with a relatively competent lover every once in awhile. I’ve learned to be content with that,” Anne said sullenly before holding up a full glass of wine. “To going home and getting drunk…” she toasted before downing the full glass in one gulp. “You’re welcome to join me if you have a mind,” she called over her shoulder as she made her way to the exit.


	9. Chapter 9

When Anne didn’t show up for war council the following morning, Cullen volunteered to check on her. He suspected that she had probably drunk too much the night before and wanted to make sure that she was well. As he walked into the guest wing of the chateau the Inquisition had rented in Halamshiral, a man that looked vaguely familiar hurriedly passed by him after giving a terse, “Commander,” greeting. The man - whoever he was- had no business being in that part of the manor. His presence was evidence that the guards hadn’t been watchful enough. Cullen stopped to dress down his men for their failure when one of them sheepishly pointed out that the man had entered the area with the Inquisitor at his side.

“I see,” Cullen said tersely. “Back to your posts.”

Cullen knocked on the door to Anne’s room trying to reserve judgment. He heard her brightly answer, “Come in,” and complied.

“Terry, I had a lovely time, but …” Anne said as she stepped out from behind a dressing screen wearing only a very thin, very short robe. When she saw Cullen, her face fell. “Oh, it’s you,” she said flatly before walking over to pick up her ballgown and underthings off the floor.

“When you weren’t at the war council, I was concerned,” Cullen said evenly.

“I’m taking the day off,” Anne snarled, and the smell of alcohol on her breath was pungently strong.

“Are you still drunk?” Cullen asked aghast.

“I certainly hope so, and with any luck, I’ll spend the rest of the day that way, too,” Anne snapped.

“You need to sober up and get back to work,” Cullen ordered with his arms folded across his chest.

“ _You_ don’t get to give the orders, Commander - at least not to me. I said I’m taking the day off, and I meant it. Now if you don’t mind …” Anne said gruffly as she gestured to the door.

“Actually, I do mind. This isn’t like you, Annie,” Cullen worried.

“Not like me? Then you don’t know me very well. This is _exactly_ like me,” Anne hissed and then stumbled unsteadily as she drank directly from a bottle of wine that she’d picked up from the nightstand. 

“I don’t believe that, and neither do you,” Cullen retorted as he reached out to put a hand on Anne’s shoulder.

Anne’s hand which was clutching the wine bottle flew up defensively - spilling the red liquid all over Anne’s robe. “Fuck!” she cursed.

“Let me get you something to eat and some coffee,” Cullen said gently as he took the bottle from Anne’s hand.

“Why the concern about me now when you wouldn’t deign to dance with me last night, Commander? Are you hoping I’ll take you to bed next? I didn’t think you the type of man that would be interested in sloppy seconds,” she said spitefully.

Cullen growled in the back of his throat but otherwise kept calm. “Annie, I’m going to get you breakfast. While I’m gone, you’re going to clean up and get dressed,” he said authoritatively before quietly adding, “ _Please._ ”

“Seeing as I just spilled the last of my alcohol, I suppose I will,” Anne agreed in a slightly less belligerent tone. “But I’m still not going to work today.”

“Fair enough,” Cullen answered before leaving the room.

When he returned with a tray of food, he heard Anne being sick behind the dressing screen. He set the tray down on her dresser and wet a washcloth at the basin before passing the rag to Anne.

“Maker, I’m never drinking again,” Anne swore as she took the rag from Cullen.

“Why do I think that’s an oath that you’ve made and broken several times over?” Cullen joked. Anne smiled weakly as she mopped her face.

“Cullen, I’m sorry… I…” she started to apologize.

“You don’t reach my rank without having to sober up a few drunks every now and then,” Cullen replied after holding up a hand to stop her apology.

“Maybe I’ll be fortunate, and I won’t recall any of this later. Black outs aren’t so bad really. You don’t have to remember what an ass you’ve made of yourself,” Anne groaned.

“Try to eat something,” Cullen encouraged. “I brought bland things - toast, pancakes … that should help to soak up some of the alcohol. How much _did_ you have to drink anyway?” he questioned.

“If I was less buzzed, I might be able to give you an answer that went beyond _too much_ but I’m afraid that’s all I’ve got,” Anne replied after taking a bite of toast.

“Perhaps we should take you to a healer after you’ve eaten something,” Cullen suggested.

“Whatever hangover I’ll have later I’ve more than earned. I’ll take my punishment for overindulgence like a man … or woman … or whatever… Maker, I’m drunk,” Anne said numbly.

“You certainly are,” Cullen said with a faint smirk. “Finish your food and then put on some comfortable shoes. You’re in need of the templar cure for a hangover,” Cullen remarked.

“The templar cure? What’s that?” Anne asked.

“A five mile run followed by calisthenics and then sparring. Very few of my men ever showed up drunk for duty more than once,” Cullen said with a sly grin.

“Oh… Maker,” Anne groaned as she put her head in her hands. “That sounds like torture. Are you just going to watch and lord it over me?”

“No, you’re a special case, Lady Trevelyan. I think I’ll join you,” Cullen replied with a wink.

After the run and calisthenics, Anne was incredibly sore but certainly sober. “Do you think we can skip the sparring? I’m not very good with a sword,” Anne pleaded.

Cullen grinned. “I think the term your former instructor used was _abysmal_. I’d like to see just how awful you are.”

“Ugh,” Anne groaned. “Cullen, he was being generous with that assessment.”

“Then this will be good for you. How do you defend yourself when your attackers get within melee range anyway?” he questioned.

“I smash my bow against their face, lay down a smoke screen, and get away,” Anne replied. 

“So you never use a sword or dagger?” Cullen queried.

Anne wrinkled up her nose. “I just can’t.”

“Why not? Is it too hard to switch between weapons - worried that you’ll lose your bow?” Cullen hypothesized.

Anne shook her head. “You’ll laugh if I tell you…”

“Now I’ll have to hound you until you do,” Cullen teased.

“I get sick at the sight of blood. I can manage at a distance … seeing if I hit my target well … but up close…” Anne shivered and then gagged. “The way Cassie and Bull get covered in gore and blood and people bits…” she stopped speaking and gagged again. “Then they come up to talk after the battle all blood splattered…” Anne made a disgusted noise and put her hand to her mouth. “I threw up on Bull once. Cole and the warriors have learned to at least wipe off their faces and hands before speaking to me.”

“Seriously?” Cullen asked and Anne nodded vigorously.

“That’s the upside to fighting demons and darkspawn. The ichor doesn’t bother me in the least,” Anne added. “Blood though…” 

“So maybe we _will_ skip sparring… I _could_ teach you to throw a dagger, though. Not as antiseptic as shooting at range, but you shouldn’t get much if any blood splatter,” Cullen suggested.

“That actually sounds fun, and it would be great as a bar trick. Knotting cherry stems with your tongue only gets you so far,” Anne chirped.

“Why don’t we take a break to clean up? I’ll collect my daggers and meet you near the stables. We can use hay bales as targets,” Cullen offered.

“Maybe not the stables…” Anne said hesitantly. That’s when it dawned on Cullen where he’d seen the man he passed in the hallway earlier that morning. He was one of the estate’s stablemen.

“I’ll get a few bales of hay and bring them into the courtyard. That way we won’t risk scaring the horses,” Cullen replied acting as if he was unaware of the reason for her hesitance. He wasn’t thrilled that she’d spent the night with a relative stranger, but it would have bothered him more if she had had an emotional attachment to her lover. It wasn’t as if he held any claim on Annie after all. _Such things simply aren’t possible. We’re at war. She’s the Inquisitor, and you’re…_ Cullen reminded himself when he began wondering what might have happened if he _had_ accepted her invitation to dance.

An hour later, Cullen saw Annie wander into the courtyard. She was freshly bathed without a stitch of make up and wearing old leathers. Anne’s damp hair was tied back in a loose ponytail that sent messy waves down her back. “I would have spent more time trying to get my hair dry, but I didn’t want to make you wait,” she smiled. 

Cullen couldn’t remember a time she had looked more beautiful - not even the night before when she had stunned the Orleasian court in her elegant ballgown and expertly applied cosmetics. His hand flew to the back of his neck, and he felt his throat tighten a bit. _She’s your friend - probably your closest one at Skyhold now that Rylen’s stationed out west. Don’t mess that up,_ he counseled himself before struggling to push his attraction to her aside.

After demonstrating for her a few times, he handed Annie a dagger and asked her to throw. She missed the hay bale entirely. “You grew up with brothers - right? Did you never play ball with them?” he questioned.

“I wasn’t allowed. It wasn’t ladylike,” Anne replied, and Cullen caught a glimpse of just how strictly gender roles had been enforced in the Trevelyan household. _No wonder she thought her entire value tied up in her marriage prospects. From the way she was raised, it likely was,_ he thought sadly.

“Then let me help. Do you mind?” he asked before putting his arms around her to position her. She had shook her head and smiled shyly at his question. Taking her right hand in his and placing his left on her waist to keep her steady, he had to think hard not to loose his entire train of thought. She fit perfectly against him and smelled wonderful. “What is it that you’re wearing - the perfume?” he found himself asking.

Anne giggled. “Almond oil. I started using it in my hair on a tip from a friend. It smells yummy - doesn’t it?”

Cullen chuckled. He should have known the scent. It was his recommendation she was following after all. Still it smelled differently on her - sweeter, more subtle. “That it does,” he agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short update before I hit the after-Christmas sales. Wish me luck at finding a good parking spot. :)


	10. Chapter 10

With Cullen’s assistance, Anne’s next throw hit the target albeit slightly off center. Anne looked back at him over her shoulder with a bemused grin. “Now that I’ve thrown my only dagger, what would you recommend I use when I need to open a letter later?”

Cullen’s eyes twinkled as he looked down at Anne and quipped, “I suppose I hadn’t thought that far…”

Anne let her head fall back against his chest as she gave a throaty laugh at his response. When she stayed that way with her eyes closed long after she’d stopped laughing, Cullen considered simply turning her slightly and kissing her. _That wouldn’t be appropriate, and she likely wouldn’t appreciate such forwardness,_ he advised himself as he let go of her hand and waist.

“Oh, sorry,” Anne said abashedly when she felt his hands drop. Stepping away from him and patting her hair nervously, she bit her lip before exclaiming, “I should really be going… I owe Leliana and Josephine an apology for missing the meeting this morning. We should do this again, though. Great bar trick and whatnot…”

When her weight shifted away from him, Cullen felt hollow. “Annie…” he began to protest her departure, but instead bowed his head and said, “It would be my pleasure, Inquisitor.”

*********************

With matters at the Winter Palace resolved, the Inquisitor and her advisors returned to Skyhold to prepare for confronting the Wardens. The war room was packed as Cullen and Leliana outlined their options to Anne, her inner circle, Josephine, Alistair, Hawke, and Morrigan. It would be at least another month before all of the Inquisition’s troops were in place and outfitted - their ranks bolstered by a contingent of Celene’s best chevaliers in thanks for Anne saving her life and throne, but her advisors wanted Anne to adopt an overall strategy for the assault before she left for the Western Approach.

Anne listened thoughtfully to the various options and posed a few probing questions, but Cullen couldn’t tell which strategy she preferred. His suggestion was for a frontal assault - using siege machinery to assault the walls and gates of the aged fortress before flooding the keep with Inquisition soldiers and their allies. Leliana was advocating a subtler method - sending a contingent of spies posing as merchants into the keep to open the gates for their forces. While Cullen appreciated the potential for saved lives in Leliana’s scenario, he thought it likely her plan would fail. The Wardens were a suspicious lot and were likely to detect the subterfuge before the gates were opened. Then the Inquisition would have to fall back on his plan having lost the element of surprise. 

Cullen was surprised when the Inquisitor turned to Hawke of all people to ask for her opinion. Hawke wasn’t known for having particularly good luck or discretion although that never stopped her from having strong ideas about what should be done. “I’d use the spies,” she said firmly.

“Right,” Anne said before turning back to the war table. “We’ll use Cullen’s direct assault then.”

Cullen coughed to keep from laughing. Anne had consulted Hawke and chosen the opposite course. It was tactically brilliant and absolutely hilarious.

“Why ask if you aren’t going to listen?” Hawke grumbled at Anne.

“Because Slick has more sense than any of us back in Kirkwall ever did,” Varric teased before patting Hawke on the back. “Don’t pout. I’ll buy us a round, and you can try to convince me that Blondie isn’t entirely insane.”

With the plan for Adamant sketched out, most of the people in the war room filed out behind Varric and Hawke. Only Josephine, Cullen, Leliana, and Anne remained behind. They still had hours of work in front of them sifting through and addressing the seemingly endless litany of reports and requests for the Inquisition.

“We really should consider putting chairs in here,” Anne snarked as she saw her advisors drag out their reams of parchment.

“Then the meetings might take even longer,” Cullen countered. “You seem to cut things off when your legs start to go numb.”

“Is it that obvious?” Anne returned. “And here I thought I was being discrete. So what Lord StuffandSuch has his knickers in a twist today?” she quizzed to get the agenda rolling.

Two and a half hours later, Cullen guessed the Inquisitor would soon surrender her fight against Skyhold’s paper monsters. She’d led a valiant assault on the backlog of issues facing the Inquisition, but if her shifting around was any indicator, her feet were killing her. The giveaway, though, was that Anne’s stomach was growling so loudly that Josie had started giggling at the noise. “I give,” Anne declared as she sounded the retreat. “Lady Glitterbits will just have to wait another day for us to manage the fennecs assaulting her prize cabbages,” she added making fun of the inanity of some of the requests sent to the Inquisition by entitled and self-absorbed nobles. “I’ve got to get something to eat before my stomach starts digesting itself.”

“Mind if I join you?” Cullen asked while Josephine and Leliana exchanged delighted and amused looks.

“I’d like that,” Anne smiled as she waved for Cullen to follow her. “I’m afraid we’ve limited options … there’s the first floor of the Rest or the second.”

“We could always raid the kitchens and eat elsewhere,” Cullen suggested.

“An excellent idea!” Anne exalted. “We’ll have a picnic on my balcony. Blissful silence as long as the ravens don’t notice that we’ve got food.”

“Living close to the rookery has its drawbacks, it seems,” Cullen commented.

“Maker … those birds drive me insane. Did you know there’s a group of them that roosts in the stairwell to my room? I can’t walk by without them cawing at me. It’s nearly as bad as walking by the dockworkers in Llomerynn.”

“You’ve been to Rivain?” Cullen quizzed.

“What? Did you never finish perusing my dossier? I’m disappointed,” Anne teased. “But yes… I frequented Rivain and Antiva a great deal after I left the templars. Both boast phenomenal food, bustling markets, and active underworlds. It was easy for me to find entertainment, anonymity, and employment there.”

“A pale, blond Marcher didn’t stick out?” Cullen queried.

“Ah… but I wasn’t a pale blond Marcher then. I dyed my hair, spent time in the sun, and lost my accent. It was one time my hair texture played in my favor. I make for a very believable western Antivan I’ll have you know,” she said slipping into the smooth yet rushed timbre common amongst Antivans.

“Does Josephine know you can do that?”

“Probably,” Anne answered in her normal voice before playfully needling. “She actually _reads_ the reports she’s given.”

“Perhaps I just enjoy finding out about you on my own,” Cullen countered, and Anne blushed subtly and started to reach up to pat her hair.

“Your hair is fine,” Cullen said with a smirk as they entered the kitchens.

Even with his reassurance, Anne smoothed her hair a few times before gathering some bread, cheese, and dried figs for their meal. Cullen took some ale from the shelves while the cook growled her displeasure at them. “Just take what ya’ please… never mind I’m trying to feed a fortress,” she grumbled.

“Thank you, Cookie Nan,” Anne said sweetly. “Is your son doing better?”

“Aye, ma’am, that he is. Right noble of you to send the healers to check on him. Leg’s as straight as an arrow now. Walkin’ and runnin’ with nary a limp,” the cook beamed.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Anne smiled. “Tell Barry I look forward to seeing him back at the forge soon.”

“That I will, ma’am. Tell you what… I just finished some apple fritters. Might you want to take a few with you?” the cook offered.

“Ooohh, that sounds lovely,” Anne gushed as the cook loaded her up with apple fritters and a few extra slices of cheese. 

“Off with you now. Before the others catch wind I’ve been giving away food,” the cook said as she shooed Cullen and Anne away.

“What was wrong with her son?” Cullen asked as they walked back to Anne’s quarters.

“He’s apprenticing to be a blacksmith and got kicked while learning how to shoe horses. The blow shattered his lower leg. One of Dennet’s men mentioned it to me, so I sent Ellendra to check on the boy. I’m glad he’ll be okay. It sounded excruciating.”

“How in the world do you keep all these people straight?” Cullen wondered.

Anne shrugged. “I’ve always been good with names, but I could get lost in a paper bag. The Maker just created us all differently, I suppose,” she answered before handing Cullen her basket of food, so she could unlock the door leading to her quarters.

The second she opened the door, the ravens started calling. “You weren’t kidding about the racket,” Cullen remarked.

“Just keep the basket covered,” Anne advised as she climbed the winding staircase. “Maybe they won’t notice we’ve got food.” 

When she opened the door leading to her bedroom and office, Cullen whistled, “ _More_ stairs?”

“Tell me about it,” Anne agreed. “Now imagine you’ve been riding all day to make it back to Skyhold after spending weeks in the field. I often end up sleeping in the barn my first night back rather than climbing up here. The stable isn’t too bad of a place to camp as long as I can position my bedroll upwind of the manure pile and well away from Blackwall. He snores like a mabari with a sinus infection.”

Cullen chuckled at her descriptor of Blackwall. He was also secretly relieved to hear that she didn’t just cuddle up to the Warden when she was too tired to scale the stairs. When they finally reached the landing in Anne’s room, he took a long look around. “This is really nice,” he stated as he examined the room’s lavish furnishings and intricate stained glass windows.

“And it sits empty more often than not,” Anne added. “I tried to convince Josie to use it when I’m away. It’s decorated to her taste after all. No luck. I think she’s afraid that she’d never get me out of the barn if she did.”

Anne pulled a quilt off the back of her sofa and laid it out on the balcony. “Insta-picnic,” she exclaimed as she took the basket of food from Cullen.

“The view is extraordinary,” Cullen said while leaning against the railing looking at the Frostbacks (and Anne). 

“It is unless you’re trying to sleep in. Having no curtains in a room that is three-quarters windows is just cruel. I’d be worried about peeping Toms if the room wasn’t so high, so I suppose I should be grateful for all those stairs after all,” Anne jested.

Cullen sat down and broke off a piece of bread. Anne and he ate for a few minutes in contented silence before she set down her ale and began to pat her hair.

“Something on your mind?” Cullen asked. He doubted Anne even realized she had such a noticeable tic. It was adorable.

She took a deep breath, exhaled, twisted her lips, and then went slightly cross-eyed before speaking, “Do you ever consider whether we… I mean… what I’m trying to say is that…” she sighed and said, “Fuck subtlety. I like you, Cullen, and not just a little. Is there any way that feeling is mutual?”

Cullen’s hand flew up to the back of his neck at her question, and Anne giggled. “Do you know that you do that every time things get the least bit flirty between us?”

“You’re one to talk,” Cullen rejoined. “You pat your hair as if it had caught fire in the same situations.”

“So I’m not imagining…” Anne pressed.

Cullen shook his head. “No, it’s not your imagination. I’ve often thought of what I’d say to you in this situation, but…”

“But what?” Anne questioned as a worried and guarded expression came over her face.

“I didn’t think it possible,” Cullen answered, “You’re the Inquisitor, we’re at war, and…”

“Does that really matter?” Anne asked hesitantly.

“I … suppose not,” Cullen smiled as he leaned forward to kiss Anne just as one of Leliana’s crows landed between them and took off with what was left of the bread.

“Damned birds!” Anne huffed. “I swear Leliana has them trained to be as aggravating as…” But she didn’t get to finish her sentence, as Cullen had waited for far too long to let his chance to kiss Anne be waylaid by a bird. When he finally ended the kiss, Anne was flushed but smiling. 

Cullen still felt he needed to apologize for his forwardness. “I’m sorry…” he said awkwardly.

“Why? You don’t regret it - do you?” Anne asked again looking worried and small.

“No, not in the least,” Cullen replied while leaning in for another kiss.


	11. Chapter 11

Cullen awoke sick to his stomach and in a cold sweat. _You’d think I’d eventually get used to this nightmare. I’ve had it for ten years,_ he thought as he rubbed his forehead. It wasn’t always this dream, though. If it had been, he might have grown inured to the images of his brothers in arms being tortured as the demon promised to stop if he would just give in to her. No, his mind provided him with unpredictable terrors. Sometimes it would be standing silent as his Knight-Commander authorized yet another mage be made tranquil on shaky evidence. Other times it was watching Meredith turn into a red lyrium statue after she had turned on her men and him. Still yet it might be reliving fights against demons, abominations, or blood mages. He never knew what the dreams would be. He only knew that they would come.

Lyrium kept the nightmares at bay. Under its influence, the bad memories were hazy and short-lived, but without it, they took on a frightening realism that caused Cullen to wake still smelling blood, smoke, and decay. The dreams weren’t pleasant, but they were confined to the night and therefore manageable. With worrisomely increasing frequency since stopping lyrium, Cullen had started having waking dreams - _flashbacks_ Cassandra called them. He’d be attending to his duties and see, hear, or smell something that would trigger a memory, and he’d be stuck reliving it as those around him watched him stare blankly ahead. But when a flashback happened at Griffin Wing and Cullen half drew his sword on his assistant before recognizing what he was seeing wasn’t real, Cullen felt as if he couldn’t justify the risk any longer. He needed to either step down or resume taking lyrium.

He expected that Cassandra would be approving of his decision. She had promised to watch him closely and not allow his addiction to become a threat to the Inquisition or its people. Even though the siege at Adamant was literally days away, he had begged Cassandra to relieve him of duty. He’d argued that his second-in-command should be promoted immediately. Rylen was a good man and capable leader. Moreover, Rylen was well-acquainted with the battle plans for Adamant and had been kept abreast of nearly all Inquisition intelligence in case Cullen was injured or killed. Cassandra had outright refused. She believed Cullen merely needed to stay the course and take better care of himself. Then Cassandra had sic’ed Annie on him.

Anne had stormed into his temporary office angry enough that he was relieved he hadn’t yet given her another dagger throwing lesson. Initially, he thought her rage was at his selfishness and incompetence, but it wasn’t. She was livid that he hadn’t told her how much he was struggling. Seeing that he had his lyrium kit out on his desk, she had picked up the box and hurled it at the fireplace with surprising accuracy given her limited throwing experience. Then she had perched herself directly in front of him and demanded that he talk. And somehow he _had_ talked. Ten years of regrets, secrets, and fears spilled out of his mouth as she listened quietly and withheld judgement.

How he had wanted her to judge him. He wanted Annie to tear into him they way he tore into himself. Couldn’t she see his carelessness? How could he justify giving less to the Inquisition than he had the Chantry? Their cause deserved better - _she_ deserved better. Why wouldn’t she admit that? Why wouldn’t she tell him to step down or at least resume taking lyrium? But she wouldn’t. Instead she stubbornly took hold of his arm and announced that she was taking him to bed.

He nearly fell over. He’d just described how he’d been tortured by a desire demon, and she was suggesting sex as a curative? When he said as much to her, she clarified that she meant he needed rest not a tumble. He wanted to die of embarrassment from his misinterpretation of her intent and started to stammer an apology, but she’d grabbed his hand as it reflexively flew to the back of his neck and pressed it to her cheek while whispering, “It’s alright, Cullen. Relax.”

Then she’d taken him to his quarters, helped him change out of his armor, and tucked him in bed like he was a child - patting his arm and reciting the Chant until his eyes grew heavy. And now, even though it was hours later, she was still there - sitting on the ground with her head resting against the side of his cot, her hand laying on his arm. She felt his movement and started patting him again. “It was just a dream. Go back to sleep,” she said groggily.

“Annie, your neck is going to be miserable tomorrow,” he whispered. “You don’t have to stay. I’m fine now.”

She shook her head and then drowsily climbed in beside him. “Too far. Staying here,” she yawned before falling back asleep against his chest. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with his hands. What was the protocol for sleeping with someone? Was it alright to rest a hand on her waist or should he stick to her upper back? _Maker, she feels wonderful,_ he thought as Annie snuggled up to him. _Is it okay that I’m enjoying this? Am I a complete lecher for wishing she were wearing fewer clothes?_ he wondered. Then he started to worry. _What if she wakes up and wants more? I have the general idea of what to do, but… Maker’s breath what have I gotten myself into?_ he fretted. 

Cullen had never taken an oath of celibacy, but he might as well have had. As a fourteen year old templar recruit, he had fooled around with one of the slightly older female recruits. They had exchanged messy kisses and awkward gropes out of curiosity and boredom until a precept caught them and threatened consequences. Not wanting to risk his career, Cullen had avoided any behavior that could have been considered fraternization from that point forward - even though Solona Amell made that very difficult for him.

Solona was a talented mage at the Ferelden Circle - Cullen’s first posting after being fully initiated into the Templar Order. She was bookish, brilliant, and beautiful. Contrary to all procedures and protocols, Cullen had allowed himself to nurse a crush on her. Wondering when he might see or speak to her made the long hours of supervising the mages pass faster. Even though he tried to be subtle with his interest, Solona had picked up on it. She flirted with him mercilessly - leaving him flustered yet wanting more. At one point, he’d made a complete idiot of himself literally running away from her when she got too forward, and then she was gone, conscripted by the Grey Wardens rather than face punishment for abetting another mage’s attempted escape.

He thought that he’d never see Solona again, so Cullen had allowed his thoughts about her to grow more lurid. His fantasies provided a sexual outlet that seemed harmless. He wasn’t risking his career fraternizing or his health visiting prostitutes. It would have been a workable solution if the Circle hadn’t fallen. Uldred, the mage who led the uprising at the Circle, summoned demons to torment the templars that didn’t die in the initial fighting. A desire demon fixated on Cullen and capitalized on his infatuation - mimicking Solona’s form and offering all the things he’d allowed himself to imagine when alone in his bunk. The demon had tempted and taunted him to the brink of insanity - using his arousal against him in addition to torturing his friends in front of him when he refused to give in to his desires. Then the real Solona had returned - freeing him and what remained of the Circle, but the experience had left him deeply scarred.

Cullen had been too busy, angry, and damaged to pursue a relationship while he was in Kirkwall. Meeting someone interesting and available in the few hours he had off from work each week was too hard, and his lone experience with a prostitute had been an unmitigated disaster. On the advice of his then roommate Raleigh Samson, Cullen had gone to the Blooming Rose brothel to shed his virginity. Wanting to avoid anyone looking remotely like Solona, Cullen had chosen an attractive elven prostitute named Katriela, but he had ended the session soon after she started disrobing as memories of the demon’s assault came flooding back. He’d paid the woman, thanked her for her time, and swore to himself that he’d never be back.

Kirkwall was such a stressful posting that Cullen rarely even wondered about what he was missing out on romantically. The city boasted a seemingly endless supply of blood mages, abominations, and calamity, so there was never any shortage of matters requiring his attention. His commander, Meredith, was a demanding and dour woman that encouraged a fanatical devotion to work that remained with him still. In that environment, Cullen easily slipped into a routine of working hours well past what was required or expected of him. 

His years in Kirkwall passed in a haze of anxiety, anger, and lyrium until Hawke’s mage friend Anders blew up the Chantry and Meredith demanded the Circle be annulled as retribution. He hadn’t argued against Meredith’s orders - his anger blinding him to the injustice of blaming Circle mages for an apostate’s action. It was only when Meredith turned on the Champion that he demanded she step down. Meredith then lashed out at her own men using powers enhanced by red lyrium to attack them and the Champion. It had ended with Meredith turning into a lyrium statue in the blood strewn courtyard of the Gallows.

He’d known then that he couldn’t remain with the templars, but he stayed with them anyway out of a sense of duty to the people of Kirkwall and guilt over the atrocities to which he had been a party. When Cassandra arrived nearly two years later offering him the chance to start over with the Inquisition, he eagerly accepted the opportunity to leave his past behind. He wanted nothing more to do with that life - or lyrium. With her assistance and encouragement, he’d weaned himself off lyrium - taking his last dose before he boarded a boat to cross the Waking Sea to return to Ferelden. The voyage had been awful as his body revolted at his stopping taking lyrium, but it also provided the perfect cover for the marked physical withdrawals he experienced. Everyone aboard (except Cassandra) merely assumed he had horrible seasickness and cabin fever. When he landed in Ferelden, he had made it past the vomiting and violent shaking brought on by acute physical withdrawal and settled into managing the more chronic symptoms of his addiction - headaches, mild tremors, and joint pain.

It was a few months after his last draught that the psychological aspects of his dependency became more troublesome than the physical ones. Lyrium provided a comfortable numbness along with templar abilities. It hollowed out emotions, sharpened concentration, and quelled nightmares. As Cullen noticed his sense of humor returning, he also found that he had to work harder to concentrate and stay still. He had once been able to stand nearly motionless for hours at a time without losing focus on the mages around him. Now he felt the need to pace and sometimes lost his train of thought mid-sentence. It was a reasonable trade off to be able to feel again. But feeling had gotten him into this spot - a thirtysomething virgin in bed with a woman who doubted the Iron Bull could sate her. “Maker…” he sighed, and Annie woke up.

She sat up before combing through her hair with her fingers and then reached to the nightstand to light the oil lamp. “What time do you think it is?” she yawned as she twisted and stretched awake. “Are you feeling better?” she asked putting a warm hand to his face.

“Much,” Cullen answered. “You didn’t have to stay, Annie.”

“No, I really did. If not for you, then for me,” she countered. “I was the last person to see my uncle alive. I’d dropped in to tell him goodnight before I went to bed. If I’d known… if I’d done something differently…” her voice broke off, and she sighed. “Anyway, you’re stuck with me shadowing you until I’m content that you’re past the worst of this.”

“Annie, I wasn’t suicidal,” Cullen argued.

“Really? Because going back on lyrium _would_ kill you. Maybe not right away but well before the end of your natural lifespan,” she said sharply before holding out her hand to him. “ Give me your hand,” she directed, and he complied.

“It’s so cold,” she said as she rubbed his hand between hers before examining his palm closely. “The books I’ve read say that’s a common symptom.”

“You’ve read about lyrium addiction?” Cullen queried.

“I had Cassandra find everything she could when you told me you were trying to quit. I wanted to be able to help you without being intrusive,” Anne explained as she traced her fingers over his palm and smiled. “I’ve never gotten to see your actual hands before. You’re always wearing gloves. They’re softer than I would have guessed. I mean you have your callouses from holding a sword, but the rest is very nice.”

“Do you have a thing for hands?” Cullen asked warily, and Anne laughed.

“No, silly. I just like getting to know you, and your hands are just another thing to discover. I did pick up palm reading during my time in Rivain if you want your fortune told,” she teased before pointing to the creases on his hand. “See here’s your life, heart and head lines.” After staring at his hand intently for a minute, Anne got a crooked smile on her face and then kissed his palm before letting it go.

“Are you going to tell me what that little smirk was about?” he quizzed.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” she said with a wink before leaning over and kissing his cheek. “I liked sleeping with you. You’re just the right type of snuggly. Some men can’t stand to be touched and others are too clingy.”

Cullen briefly wondered just how many men Anne had slept with over the years. Thinking about that would do little to bolster his confidence, so he brushed the thought aside. What mattered was that she was with him now. He only hoped his inexperience wouldn’t be an issue later. _Talk about jumping into the deep end… Maker’s breath…_

“I suppose I’ll take my walk of shame back to my quarters and get cleaned up,” Anne twittered. “Meet you for breakfast in fifteen?”

Cullen chuckled at her mention of a walk of shame. She was right, though. The whole of the keep would likely be abuzz with the news that the Inquisitor had spent the night in the Commander’s quarters. No one loved gossip quite as much as soldiers. “Does it bother you - what others might think?” he asked.

“Oh, Cullen, my reputation was in tatters long before you entered the picture. Besides our business is our own, let them think what they will. I appreciate how slowly we’re taking things. If that is a calculated move on your part, I have to commend your strategy. It’s certainly working,” she grinned.

“My strategy?”

“For courting me. You’re doing a lovely job of getting me intrigued and wanting more without rushing. Intimacy is like a beautifully wrapped Satinalia present. Part of the fun is shaking and rattling it … trying to guess what is inside. Most men can’t wait to tear off the paper, but you’re appreciating the packaging. I like that.” Then she added with a coquettish lilt as she put a hand over his, “I like having a chance to study you as well. You’ll have to forgive me if I occasionally try to peep beneath the paper.”


	12. Chapter 12

At breakfast, Cullen slowly repeated Annie’s suggestion for the day’s activities because he felt sure that he had misheard her. “You think it would do me good to get away from work, and you’re suggesting that we spend the day searching for and digging through dragon scat instead?” 

“Exactly. We can’t do anything more than twiddle our thumbs until the rest of our units arrive in the Approach, so I thought we could take care of some other business in the mean time,” Annie said with a happy grin as she nibbled on a piece of hard tack.

“And that other business involves dragon poop? If I may be so bold, why exactly was this something on your to do list?” Cullen quizzed.

“The last time I was out here I met a researcher from the University of Orlais. His entire focus is draconology. Given that Corypheus has a dragon, I thought it wise to cultivate a relationship with an expert in the field,” Anne chirped.

“That still doesn’t explain why _you_ are collecting data for him,” Cullen pointed out.

“Oh, all his research assistants have been killed, so he needs the help,” Anne replied before spreading some marmalade on her bread.

“They’ve been killed? Aren’t you perhaps concerned that this might be too dangerous - particularly considering we’re launching an assault in two days time?” Cullen questioned.

“They weren’t killed by a dragon. _Bandits_ got to them,” Annie huffed. “We should be more than capable of handling any that are stupid enough to attack us. Come on. It’ll be fun.”

Cullen doubted that it would be any sort of fun, but he also knew that Anne wasn’t going to let him out of her sight that day. She’d said as much the night before, so he had the choice of having his men seeing the Inquisitor babysitting him or scrounging through dragon dung. _Lovely._

Anne had asked the Iron Bull and Dorian to join them as they looked for remains of gurns attacked by a dragon as well as dragon droppings. As they searched around the arid terrain surrounding Griffin Wing Keep for their quarry, Anne looped her arm through Cullen’s and whispered, “I think Bull and Dorian are cute together. What do you think?”

“I… uh…,” Cullen stammered. He had no idea what else to say. Playing matchmaker wasn’t his forte, and until that point, he hadn’t even realized that Bull was also interested in men having only heard the Qunari mention his exploits with women.

“But they’re so _adoribull_ ,” Anne gushed.

“Did you honestly just pun their names?” Cullen asked while shaking his head in disbelief.

“I keep bringing them out on expeditions and dropping hints hoping something will happen, but so far nothing,” Anne sighed. “They could be so good for each other. Bull is really struggling with having been named Tal Vashoth, and Dorian needs to learn how to be proud of who he is. Not to mention - can you imagine how cute their babies would be? Well, if two men could have babies. Maybe they could adopt?” 

Cullen rubbed his forehead. He had no words.

Anne made a disappointed snort. “Varric had the same reaction. I can’t be the only person that sees it.”

“Perhaps you should let them manage on their own,” Cullen suggested.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Anne retorted before stopping short and gesturing excitedly at a heaping pile of steaming dung. “I found some poop!” she shouted as she produced a glass jar and eagerly got to collecting samples with a trowel.

“Never a dull moment with the Boss,” Bull commented.

“And I thought I couldn’t sink any lower than I did last night,” Dorian lamented.

“From what I could tell you enjoyed sinking, Vint,” Bull said lustily.

“Wait… what?” Anne squeaked and then started dancing around excitedly - nearly dumping her specimens in the process. “Eeekkk! I knew it! I knew it!” she exulted grinning from ear to ear while while holding her jar of poop and collecting trowel in the air in a sign of victory.

“Can you do something about her?” Dorian complained to Cullen. 

Cullen chuckled and then relieved Anne of her trowel and jar, so she could continue her celebration unfettered.

“That wasn’t quite what I had in mind,” Dorian snarked as Anne continued to hop around giddily while spewing plans for double dates and couples’ nights.

By the evening, they had collected and returned a _shit ton_ (in Bull’s words) of samples to the Orleasian professor. Anne had been infectiously upbeat the entire time - her mood buoyed by her successful matchmaking and spending time with Cullen. As Bull and Dorian returned to the Keep, Cullen paused to watch the sunset before turning to Anne. “I wanted to thank you for earlier… if there’s ever anything. Gah- this sounded better in my head,” he rambled.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Anne answered while putting her arms around Cullen’s waist and cuddling up to his chest. 

Cullen rested his chin on top of her head and hugged her gently. “I’d never told anyone what happened at the Fereldan Circle before. I’m not proud of the person that made me…”

Anne lifted her head off his chest and put a hand on his cheek. “I never met that man, but I like who you are now, Cullen,” she said softly.

“Even after …” Cullen questioned.

“Absolutely,” Anne answered before giving him a brief kiss. “I just want to make sure that you do a better job of taking care of yourself.”

“What about you? How are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m scared out of my wits, but I have to keep going,” Anne confessed.

“If there’s ever anything I can do, you’ve only to ask,” Cullen offered.

“Come to think of it, there is something,” Anne replied with a saucy glint in her eye before standing on her tiptoes to kiss Cullen in earnest.

****************************

Cullen had led armies long enough to know that no plan withstood contact with the enemy but the assault on Adamant was making that point relentlessly. First, one of the enormous catapults the Inquisition had borrowed from an Orleasian noble to use in the attack got bogged down in the sand out of range of the fortress walls. With his troops’ presence already given away to the Wardens, Cullen pressed ahead and made do with the trebuchets and catapults that _did_ make it into position. 

_Keep your plans flexible and nimble,_ Cullen reminded himself as the Inquisition’s forces successfully breached the fortress’ gates only to find that his men couldn’t maintain a foothold on the walls. Wardens were no ordinary warriors, and wardens assisted by demons were indescribably ruthless and effective killers. He felt his stomach drop when he sensed Annie’s familiar and featherlight touch on his forearm as she stood beside him in the shadow of an archway leading from the keep’s entrance. 

“I had hoped we’d be able to clear a path for you, Inquisitor,” he shouted over the roar of battle intentionally avoiding using Anne’s given name because he desperately needed to feel detached from what he was about to ask. “Your team will have to keep going. If you can help clear the battlements, my men will hold them for you.”

“Is that all?” Anne yelled back sarcastically before giving Cullen an apologetic shrug and adding, “I’ll see what I can manage.”

Then she was gone, and Cullen heard only brief reports of her progress before he felt the tide of battle turn. The demons and warden mages kept attacking, but little by little the warden warriors started to fight _with_ rather than _against_ the Inquisition’s forces. Only Annie could manage to sweet talk Thedas’ toughest and most battle hardened soldiers to join her side. There could be no other explanation for their about face except perhaps the Maker’s intervention. It seemed more and more likely to Cullen, however, that Annie _was_ the Maker’s intervention even though she’d have his head for saying as much.

With the warden warrior’s assistance, the Inquisition began to gain and hold ground in the fortress as Anne rushed to confront Warden Commander Clarel before she could complete a ritual summoning even more demons. From what his men later reported, Annie and Alistair had made well reasoned and impassioned pleas for Clarel to stop, but it had been Hawke’s words that had convinced the warden leader to relent. _Say what you will about her luck and judgment, no one can deny the Champion’s ability to bullshit her way out of a situation,_ Cullen chuckled to himself.

That should have meant their victory, but the Magister that had been manipulating the warden mages summoned Corypheus’ dragon. Suddenly, it was Haven all over again. Fire and destruction raining from above as Clarel tried to lure the dragon away from her men and the bulk of the Inquisition’s forces. With the dragon’s appearance, the warden mages under Corypheus’ control began to summon more demons using the life blood of wounded soldiers to fuel their rituals. The battle once again turned and not in the Inquisition’s favor as Adamant filled with the shrieks and gurgles of demons, wisps, and abominations.

Cullen had been too busy fighting shades to see when the weakened wall where Annie had been facing off against the dragon gave way. He only heard piecemeal reports from eyewitnesses that suggested she may have opened a rift rather than having been crushed in the collapse. Cullen’s heart clenched when he heard the news, but he couldn’t allow himself to dwell on the possibilities. His soldiers needed a leader, and he would be resolute on their behalf.

He had no idea how long they had been fighting. The Fade held an endless supply of spirits and demons, and it seemed to Cullen that the remaining warden mages were intent on releasing all of them. Still he urged his men and the warden warriors to keep fighting and to concentrate their attacks on the mages whenever possible. _If we can hold long enough to kill the mages, we can retreat, regroup, and deal with the demons later,_ Cullen thought. It wasn’t a great plan, but it was the best he could do in the current situation. He briefly considered the Inquisition’s long term chances with Annie gone, but quickly dismissed the idea from his mind. _Survive this battle before you begin another,_ he told himself.

Then the sky around them had flashed an eerie green, and the demons they had been fighting disintegrated as one very annoyed and exceptionally disheveled Inquisitor returned from the Fade. Cullen couldn’t believe his eyes as he saw Anne seal the rift and then gingerly climb on top of a battlement to address those present.

Anne didn’t pull any punches as she lambasted the wardens for their mistake and pointed out how their shortsightedness had cost them the second hero of the fifth blight. “Warden Alistair sacrificed himself, so you could have another chance,” she’d yelled from the battlements. “Prove to the Inquisition and all of Thedas that the wardens are still honorable. Fight against Corypheus, and if you will not or cannot do that, then leave so that you cannot be controlled by him.”

“We have no officers of any substantial rank remaining. We can’t make that choice for ourselves,” one of the wardens called out to Anne and the others nodded.

“Then fight with us. You know better than anyone what evil we face,” Anne cried out as the wardens raised their swords in the air in agreement. After raising her bow over her head in reply, Anne held her arms out to the Iron Bull who helped her off the battlement. Cullen lost sight of her among the throng of people, but soon noticed Bull’s horns making quick and steady progress through the crowd. Anne no doubt had him clearing a path for her, but where was she going? Cullen didn’t have to wait long for an answer.

“Miss me?” a familiar voice said to him as a hand lightly touched his forearm.

“Just a bit,” Cullen answered Annie with a wink.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get you a souvenir, but all the gift shops were closed,” Anne teased.

“Well, don’t feel as if you need to head back into the Fade on my account. I never was one for bric-a-brac,” Cullen replied before squeezing her tightly to his side.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild smut after the asterisk.

Hours after the victory at Adamant when the wounded had been tended and the dead accounted for, Cullen leaned back against one of the fortress walls and closed his eyes to concentrate. He was spent. The adrenaline of battle had worn off leaving him bone tired and shaky. It was difficult for him to see the assault as a victory so many of his people had been cut down in the fighting. Still preliminary numbers showed they had suffered fewer casualties than he had predicted in all but the rosiest of his estimates. That didn’t bring back the dead or ease their families’ grief. He’d need to write the letters soon.

Writing letters of condolence was one of the hardest aspects of Cullen’s job. Many generals delegated the task to scribes only signing their names at the bottom of generic expressions of sympathy. Cullen refused to do that. His soldiers had given their lives. The least their families deserved was a personalized acknowledgment of their loss. When he was acquainted with one of the deceased, Cullen made sure to include his memories of the person in his letter. If the soldier had been too new or stationed too far away for Cullen to know them well, he asked their commanding officers and squad mates for their recollections. More than anything, Cullen wanted the parents, spouses, and children of the fallen to know that the Inquisition and its Commander had seen them as people not pawns. Their lives mattered. Cullen never wanted to be the type of leader that would forget that.

Cullen’s eyes were still closed as he was mentally organizing troop withdrawals, supply lines, and other considerations when he felt Annie touching his arm. She had put on a brave facade around their troops, but Cullen could see that whatever happened in the Fade had left her mind ravaged even though she had escaped without significant physical injury. “There you are,” he said gently while giving her a loving smile.

Anne tried to smile in return, but her eyes filled with tears instead. “I need to get away from here…” she choked out, and Cullen understood that she needed him to give her permission to leave. Her sense of duty mirrored his own, and she would allow herself to fray thin rather than let down those under her leadership.

“I can’t think of anything requiring your immediate attention, Inquisitor. Rest. You’ve earned it,” he replied choosing to address her as a colleague so she would know his analysis was an objective one.

“Come with me?” she pleaded.

Cullen had many matters still requiring his attention, but the anguish in her eyes told him that they could wait. “Of course. My officers have their orders. I’m at your disposal,” he answered trying to keep his response professional because several of his soldiers were within ear shot. While everyone knew that Anne and he were involved, Cullen did his best to keep their private lives as private as possible.

“I’ll inform Knight-Captain Rylen of your plans, Ser,” Cullen’s assistant Liam offered while putting a hand to his chest in salute. Cullen nodded his agreement. Liam was trustworthy, efficient, and practical - the type of person who never over promised or under delivered. Cullen considered him indispensable and was still browbeating himself for nearly attacking the young Fereldan during a flashback. Liam had taken the incident in stride having figured out for himself that Cullen was suffering withdrawals although he had jokingly suggested replacing Cullen’s razor sharp broadsword with a wooden practice one when he reported for duty the next day.

Cullen followed Anne to the tents that had been pitched just outside of the fortress after the battle ended. He had no more than lowered the flap to her tent than Anne was on him - kissing him with needy desperation while unbuttoning her jerkin. Her kisses were hard and passionate as she quickly disrobed having already shed her top layers down to her breastband before even coming up for air.

Cullen’s head was swirling. He had expected that she might need to talk, but clearly Annie was in no mood for words as she yanked off his gloves before starting to unbuckle his armor with deft hands. For a time, he simply let instinct take over - helping her undress him and letting his hands and lips move freely over her body. She felt so good - soft in all the right places. She smelled good, too - like tea tree oil and calendula. She’d obviously washed the worst of the battle off herself although he sometimes tasted salt on her skin as he kissed her body. Cullen felt awkward that he had yet to clean up. He was no doubt drenched in sweat and Maker knows what else, but from what he could tell Annie didn’t notice or simply didn’t care.

He was doing well just enjoying the sensations of holding, touching, and kissing her without overthinking things when her hand traveled lower and pressed against his length. “Maker!” he’d shouted and then pulled back from her in surprise.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked with a worried look.

“Uh… no …um… you just caught me off guard,” Cullen answered as his mind caught up to what his body had been doing. Annie was before him - naked except for her panties looking a combination of concerned and indescribably hot. He was down to his trousers having somehow shed the pounds of armor and padding he typically wore. His hand flew to the back of his neck as he felt his face flush in both embarrassment and arousal. _What in the Maker’s name am I doing?_ his mind wondered while another part of him screamed to stop thinking and get back to it.

He felt faint (no doubt from the majority of his blood having left his brain) as he tried to catch his bearings and his breath. _Fantastic. Phenomenal time for a panic attack, Rutherford,_ he chastised himself as he scrambled to put words together so as not to hurt Annie’s feelings. “I … uh… need a minute,” he managed to say before sitting down on Annie’s cot and burying his head in his hands.

He felt Annie beside him, but he couldn’t look at her much less talk to her. Why did he have to start thinking? Why couldn’t he have just relaxed and let nature take over? Annie’s arms were around him now - holding him not passionately but gently as she peppered him with small kisses. She was saying something, but he was too lost in his head to hear it at first. Then he finally calmed enough to listen. She was apologizing. What type of man was he that he’d freeze in this situation? Who does that? Who has a beautiful woman in front of them practically demanding to be bedded and then just stops?

He was completely deflated - emotionally and otherwise- when he finally took his head out of his hands and faced Annie. Rather than look aggravated, she seemed ashamed. “I’m sorry. I came on too strong, and that’s a total turn off. I have no idea what you must think of me right now,” she was rambling.

“Annie, that’s not it,” he tried to interrupt, but she was too busy flagellating herself. _We’re quite the pair,_ he thought as he listened to her berate herself for being lewd, indecent, and completely unworthy of a good man’s attentions. He couldn’t allow her to continue and shushed her gently. “Annie, you’re perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing about you. I just … the thing is… I’ve never …” he stopped and rubbed his forehead. Why was this so hard to admit? It wasn’t as if being a virgin was some incurable disease.

“It’s just that after what happened at the circle in Ferelden I never really wanted to be with anyone until I met you, and…” he started but Anne interrupted.

“So you don’t think I’m a whore? You’re just inexperienced?” Anne asked hesitantly.

“I absolutely do not think you’re a whore. You are the most decent, caring woman I’ve ever known. But yes, I am a virgin,” Cullen replied feeling much more sure talking about himself while confronting the lies Anne believed about herself.

She sighed deeply and rested her head against his shoulder. Cullen wasn’t sure what that meant. Then he felt wetness on his shoulder. _Is she crying?_ he wondered as he put a hand under her chin and lifted her face.

“It was so awful, Cullen. Every fear you’ve ever known. Fears you didn’t even know you had… right before you, and at the same time, your friends are facing the same things but different. Each fear personalized to make it as painful and terrifying as possible. I just wanted to feel something other than terror, and I pushed you too hard. I’m so sorry. I should have realized …” she apologized as tears streamed down her face.

“Annie, I’m not upset with you,” he whispered before kissing her gently. She bobbed her head, stood, picked up his tunic, and then put it on.

“Stay with me - just to sleep,” she clarified. “I really don’t want to be alone.”

“Gladly,” he replied as he laid down on the cot as she crawled in beside him.

In the tiniest voice imaginable, so faint that Cullen almost wondered if he’d imagined her saying it, she whispered, “I love you,” before resting her head against his chest.

“I love you, too,” he’d echoed and then felt her smile against his chest. Maybe they weren’t entirely hopeless after all.

*********************

Surprisingly given all they had been through the day before, Anne and Cullen slept soundly that night although their position had shifted. Cullen awoke spooning Annie. His sword hand had also managed to find its way under the tunic she was wearing and was cupping her naked breast. Cullen laid still considering his options when Annie moved slightly causing her pert yet ample rear to press against his morning arousal. The sensation made his decision for him as he began to kiss her neck and rub his thumb over her nipple. She stretched awake making even more pronounced contact with his groin as she arched her back and then quickly pulled away apologizing.

Cullen refused her apology, sliding his hand down from her breast and to her hip bone, before pulling her against him roughly before stopping to ask sheepishly, “Is this alright?”

He needn’t have worried as Annie pushed back against him while reaching upward to entwine her marked hand with his shield hand. Not permitting himself to think, Cullen just enjoyed feeling, smelling, and tasting her as he kissed her neck and shoulders while grinding against her. He moved tentatively at first, but she prodded for more with a whimper as she wiggled her rear against him. Clenching her hip bone tightly, Cullen started to pump against her in earnest before realizing he should see to her satisfaction as well as his own.

Freeing his hand from hers, he took her breast and rolled a nipple between his fingers while kissing the shell of her ear and sucking gently on her earlobe. His other hand he moved in between her legs and under her panties as he massaged her wetness while pressing against her. She was responsive, and her breathing became fast and erratic as he continued his ministrations. Only after she had shuddered hard and then clamped her legs tightly around his hand, did he allow himself to speed the pace of his thrusting to see him to a finish. He curled against her as he spilled himself against her backside while biting her shoulder just enough to leave a faint mark without breaking skin.

Annie rolled over and ran a hand through his hair while smiling mischievously. “Are you sure you haven’t done this before? You’re quite good at it.”

“Beginner’s luck,” Cullen grinned before pulling her down on top of him and kissing her more.


	14. Chapter 14

Cullen had left Annie’s tent shortly before dawn after wrangling his tunic away from her by promising that he’d give her one less stained with demon ichor later. After stopping by his own tent to wash up and change his clothes, Cullen examined his armor closely. His spaulders and vambrances would likely need replaced having been badly misshapen deflecting blows from demon claws and shades. His breastplate was scorched and dented but could likely be salvaged. At least his poleyns and greaves were in good condition. 

Deciding it was better to wear a set of old armor than one in such rough shape, Cullen donned the plate he had worn in Kirkwall as a templar. Tightening the leather straps on the armor to make up for the weight he’d lost since quitting lyrium, Cullen remembered the first time he’d worn that particular set. He’d just been named Meredith’s Knight-Captain, one of the youngest men to have ever attained the rank that put him second-in-command at the Circle in Kirkwall. Meredith had passed over several more experienced templars to give him the promotion. At the time, he thought it a reward for his work ethic and justification for his zeal against mages. In retrospect, he surmised that Meredith thought him easier to manipulate, and she was right - at least for a time.

Feeling a killer headache beginning to build, Cullen knew that this would _not_ be a good day physical withdrawal wise. He would need to pace himself carefully and force himself to eat if he wanted to avoid the near crippling spasms that came over his legs and abdomen when he pushed too hard. On days like this at Skyhold, he would stick to less physically demanding tasks - paperwork and planning. The paperwork that was most pressing currently was writing condolence letters, and Cullen was wise enough to know that attempting to write those would likely trigger cravings and flashbacks. He decided to concentrate on planning and allowed himself to sit while listening to morning reports.

Rylen stayed back to speak with Cullen after his other officers left. When a sly grin crept across the Starkhavener’s face, Cullen groaned and rubbed his forehead. Rylen was a good man, his closest friend, and a complete ass. “Out with it already,” Cullen grumbled as he scribbled his signature on orders while Rylen rocked on his heels.

“I notice that you’re sitting today,” Rylen observed in his heavy brogue made more pronounced by the devious smile he wore on his face. Cullen looked up from his papers and gave Rylen his best “to the Void with you look” before returning his gaze back to them. “You’d think it’d be me needing the rest seeing as how I took command at little before the eighth bell last night and kept it all night long,” Rylen noted as he took particular care to drawl out the phrase _all night long_.

Cullen sighed, folded his arms across his chest, and leaned back in his chair. Rylen knew Cullen had stopped taking lyrium and wasn’t ragging on Cullen for exhibiting physical weakness in the face of withdrawals. Rylen supported Cullen’s decision and had expressed his intent to quit if Cullen was successful. No, this was about Anne, and Cullen knew it. Rylen had spotted something between the Inquisitor and Cullen early on, and he relished teasing Cullen about it mercilessly. 

“I’m not saying a word,” Cullen replied to a question that hadn’t been asked.

“You see I had a query for my Commander while I held the reins last night,” Rylen continued gleefully. “So I stopped by the poor man’s tent. I felt so guilty for bothering his rest, but it was a critical matter you see…”

“And I’m the Queen of Antiva, Cullen snarked. Had it been critical, Rylen would have found him without an issue. Cullen could all but guarantee every one of his soldiers except perhaps the most critically injured knew where he’d spent the night. Soldiers - templars especially - were worse gossips than old dowagers at a debutante ball.

Rylen stopped gloating entirely and drug a stool over to Cullen’s makeshift desk before sitting down. “Whatever happened when they were gone was bad. The mage Pavus went straight to his cups. He was getting rather chatty about what he’d seen until Seeker Pentaghast showed up and drug him to his tent. Since then, the Seeker’s been sitting at a lap desk by the fire writing and mumbling under her breath. The Qunari keeps going around camp with a giant stick asking people to hit him with it. Says it’s a training exercise, but it’s clear to me that he’s trying to get his head on straight. I wanted to make sure your girl was okay.”

Cullen smiled slightly at Rylen’s calling Annie _his girl_. “I think she will be. She didn’t really care to talk about it much, but she’d fallen back asleep after I got dressed to leave. That has to be a good sign - right?”

Rylen’s eyebrows arched slightly when Cullen mentioned getting dressed. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Starkhaven,” Cullen growled. “No one sleeps in heavy armor.”

“See I would have put money down on you doing just that,” Rylen needled before standing up and yawning. 

“Go get some rest, Rylen,” Cullen ordered. “You’re an ass when you’re tired.”

“No, I’m an ass all the time, Ser,” Rylen threw back before saluting and leaving. Cullen chuckled at his friend’s words as he began to unroll a map of Orlais and Ferelden to plan how he would deploy his troops once clean up had finished at Adamant.

Leliana dropped in a few moments later, and Cullen braced himself for another round of teasing. To his surprise, the spymaster didn’t make any innuendo but instead went straight to business. “We’ve received troubling news from Emprise du Lion. My scouts have identified how the Red Templars are using the quarry outside Sahrnia. They are cultivating red lyrium.”

“How is that even possible?” Cullen wondered aloud.

“Infected people grow the crystals in their bodies. Over time, they become like statues,” Leliana answered gravely.

“Like Meredith,” Cullen exhaled. Was there nothing the Red Templars held sacred? Had they completely forgotten that protecting people was a templar’s primary duty? Had they lost their souls along with their minds?

“The layout of the quarry, and the high numbers of civilians present make using a large force to liberate people unwise,” Leliana advised.

“The Red Templars would simply kill their captives or use them as human shields if we came in force,” Cullen agreed.

“A small team could successfully free the captives first allowing your men to move in and crush the Red Templars with less concerns over collateral damage,” Leliana replied. “My agents are skilled, however…”

“They’re primarily rogues and taking on the Red Templars is best suited to a mixed unit - preferably one that includes mages. Have you told the Inquisitor?” Cullen asked.

“I wanted to gauge her mental state first, so I came to you. If we hope to save those people, she’ll need to set out almost immediately. If this is too much for her to hear at present, then we may simply have to wash our hands of the situation,” Leliana said with pragmatic iciness.

“What about Sutherland’s crew or perhaps the Chargers?” Cullen brainstormed. “Do you think they could manage it?”

“Perhaps,” Leliana replied. “The question is whether the Inquisitor would let them go in her stead. We would need to inform her to use either of those options in any event.”

“And there’s no way she’d pass off the job - especially with the guilt she showed leaving the region in the first place,” Cullen added before rubbing his now pounding temples thoughtfully. “We have to inform her. Let the choice be hers.”

“I agree,” Leliana said with a small nod. “I simply wanted to make sure my sympathy for the people in Sahrnia wasn’t clouding my judgment.” Then Leliana’s bard facade came down for a few moments as she spoke softly, “I worry for Anne. The pressure she puts on herself … She reminds me of Solona. At least Alistair is with her at the Maker’s side. That dear boy … I hope he has peace now.”

“I’m sorry, Leliana. I hadn’t even considered that you’d lost a friend yesterday. Are you alright?” Cullen consoled.

“I will be. It helps to know that he died to save others rather than succumbing to the Calling. He would have wanted it that way,” she answered with a sad smile before her bard’s mask returned as she steered the conversation back to business. “Unfortunately, there’s more distressing news from Sahrnia. Our agents encountered Michel du Chevin just outside the city. He claims that a demon is ensconced in Suledin Keep along with a brigade of Red Templars.”

“Celene’s disgraced Champion? Can we trust that he isn’t working for Corypheus - laying some sort of trap?” Cullen questioned.

“I thought of that as well, but his story matches what Morrigan shared with me,” Leliana answered.

“How is that witch involved in this?” Cullen asked suspiciously. He couldn’t stand the haughty apostate and absolutely hated that she was now a fixture at Skyhold.

“Empress Celene asked Morrigan to join her court as an arcane advisor in light of the events that happened after Gaspard attacked her retinue. The Empress evidently encountered eluvians and this demon, Imshael, during her escape. He is from all accounts a very powerful demon - one of the Forbidden Ones. The Hero and I faced one of his brethren during our fight against the Blight. That demon nearly killed us all.”

“Wonderful,” Cullen groaned. “So do you want to tell the Inquisitor or do I?”

“I’ll do it. I’d hate for you to be the one to ruin the afterglow you worked so diligently to give her last night,” Leliana said with a coy grin. Cullen merely shook his head in reply. He should have known that Leliana wouldn’t let it slide entirely.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smutty smut after the series of X's. Feel free to skip if that isn't your thing.

As Cullen had anticipated, Anne wanted to act immediately on the situation in Emprise du Lion once informed of its gravity during that afternoon’s council session. What surprised him was the vehemence of her reaction.

“This is ludicrous,” Anne said in a harsh whisper as she smacked a hand on the table in front of her. “I’m half a continent away from those people, and you’re telling me that my team is their best chance of survival,” she snarled while her eyes angrily scanned the faces of her advisors.

Abandoning the decorum she typically used during council sessions, Anne raised her voice as she ranted, “The Chargers are at Skyhold drinking my beer. Sutherland is there as well, and he’s probably twirling in front of a mirror admiring the new gear we’ve provided him and his people. Either could reach Emprise du Lion in two or three days time, but your go to option is me and my crew?!? You must be joking.”

“I understand your frustration, Inquisitor…” Leliana interjected.

“No, you don’t,” Anne cut her off before picking up a map marker and twirling it between her fingers as she paused to think. “The Inquisition has resources. Use them. I’d suggest the Chargers for freeing the prisoners at the quarry and Ser Barris and his templars for the demon, but that is _your_ call. I’m delegating matters in Emprise du Lion to Cullen and you,” she announced before returning the marker to the table with a flourish.

Anne squeezed the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. _I’m not the only one with a bad headache,_ Cullen observed. When she opened her eyes and dropped her hand, the stately demeanor she usually displayed during council sessions had returned. “I apologize for my outburst. My concern is that the Inquisition has been relying too heavily on me and my team to solve problems. I can’t maintain the pace I’ve set in the past few months. I’m ashamed of that, but I’m fearful that I’ll endanger the Inquisition if I don’t admit it and slow down.”

Cullen glanced over to Leliana and was pleased to see her reaction to Anne’s admission was like his own - relief. For the past two months, both of them had been concerned that the Inquisitor was pushing herself far too hard, but Annie had shut them down whenever they had attempted to express those reservations to her. Their message had either finally gotten through or Anne’s experiences in the Fade had altered her perceptions. In any event, he was satisfied with the outcome even if it meant enduring a dressing down earlier.

“We shall see matters in Sahrnia handled, Inquisitor,” Cullen replied before turning to Leliana and asking, “To work?”

“Let’s see what we have,” Leliana agreed with a genuine smile.

********************  
Within a few days time, Cullen had laid out plans for withdrawing troops from around Adamant. His officers were more than capable of seeing those plans carried out, but he was hesitant to return to Skyhold. It was selfish of him, but he didn’t want to leave Annie. He liked seeing her around camp, sharing occasional meals, and talking with her at the fireside when the day’s work was completed. He felt whole when she was sitting beside him with her hand resting on his forearm and her head leaning against his shoulder.

She hadn’t invited him back to her tent after that first night when she returned from the Fade. He might have been worried that he had done something wrong had she not told him that she was consciously trying not to rush him and then coyly added that she would be more than happy to accept an invitation to his quarters when he was ready. He liked feeling in control of their physical relationship. It lowered his anxiety about his performance and also seemed to make Annie more comfortable. With him making the first moves, she didn’t have to worry about being too forward.

He considered asking her to stay with him the night before he left for Skyhold but thought better of it. He didn’t want their first time together to be a leave-at-dawn scenario. He wanted the luxury of waking up with her and languishing in bed together. Besides if it wasn’t very good the first time, he wanted to have ample opportunity to correct his errors and hone his technique. That wasn’t to say that all their interactions had been chaste hand holding and fireside talks during the time they spent wrapping up at Adamant. There had been plenty of torrid moments when they were alone in the command tent or the shadows of the fortress. He had never fully appreciated the utility of the skirts of his old templar attire until Annie had (with his permission and later exceptional gratitude) sunk to her knees and showed him. After that, he nearly wished he hadn’t sent his old armor in for repairs.

The morning that he left, Cullen ate breakfast with Anne and promised to write her. Anne’s eyebrow had shot up immediately at his words. “Is this the same promise you gave your sister Mia?” she said while wagging a finger at him. He _was_ very bad about keeping in contact with his family.

“No, I’ll do better for you. Just don’t expect rhyming poems or flowery prose,” Cullen warned.

Anne furrowed her brow and said, “I’m sorry Commander, but I expect all of your letters to be in iambic pentameter,” before breaking into a wide grin and giggling. “I’ll be content to know that you are well, and if you throw in some juicy Skyhold gossip all the better.”

“Duly noted,” he’d responded before giving her a gentle kiss. “Maker, I’m going to miss you.”

“With luck, I’ll wrap things up here and in the Hissing Wastes in a month or so. Then a few sweeps of some elven ruins, and I’ll be back home,” she said in an upbeat voice that almost belied her trepidation.

“Something worrying you?” Cullen asked.

“I’m worried that you’ll forget about me,” she said quietly, and Cullen again glimpsed just how low her regard was for herself.

“Impossible. You’re unforgettable,” he declared emphatically before squeezing her hand. “I’ll be there waiting and praying for your safe return. Never doubt that.”

*********************  
When Cullen promised to write Annie, he didn’t think it would be so difficult. Her letters to him were funny and flirtatious. For security purposes, she never included any mission data in them, but she still managed to paint a picture of her life and activities. Many letters held tales of her companions’ quirks and interactions. She provided an amusing account of Sera putting lizards in Solas' bedroll, and Solas taking revenge by intimating that the magic-fearing Sera might have latent magical abilities that he would be delighted to nurture. She shared Cole’s odd ramblings of others’ thoughts and how relieved she was that he couldn’t see past the mark into her mind. She talked about the tension that waxed and waned between Varric and Cassandra and how she felt caught in the middle of their cold war. 

She ended each letter with a reminder that she loved and missed him. Then she’d draw stick figure cartoons with goofy captions representing them having gone on imaginary dates rather than being apart. Her artwork was so atrocious it was comical in itself, but she also made the dates go unpredictably awry. “Gondola Ride in Val Royeaux - Cullen lost his balance and fell in” and “Picnic outside Skyhold - interrupted by hungry mama bear and her cubs” were some of his favorites. He’d carefully cut out all of her cartoons and pinned them to a cork board next to his shaving mirror, so he had a reminder of Annie to enjoy as he got ready each morning.

Balling up his fifth draft of a letter and tossing it into the fire, Cullen rubbed the back of his neck before starting over. There was only so many ways to say that he missed her. That everything was less enjoyable because she wasn’t there to share it with him. That he worried for her safety and prayed for the Maker’s protection over her. That he wanted to show her the grace and strength she had shown him. That he was winning his fight against lyrium addiction because of her confidence and support. That he loved her with a ferocity and tenderness that he’d never known. But when he tried to put those ideas to paper, they came out as garbled mush or even worse as dry as a report on his army’s supply lines.

Then he thought of something that summed up all of those things and realized that he wanted her to have it. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a coin. The edges were worn and Andraste’s image on its face was blurred from his rubbing his thumb over it. The words came easily as he described how he’d received the coin and what it meant to him. His brother Branson had given him the coin “for luck” as he was leaving for templar training. Templars were to rely on their faith to see them through the trials of their training and service, but he had kept the coin tucked away on his person from that point forward. It had seen him through what happened in Ferelden, Kirkwall, Haven, and Adamant. Perhaps it was superstitious or silly, but he wanted Annie to have it - to enjoy the protection and hope it had given him. He quickly penned his letter, signed it “Love, C.,” and sealed the coin within it. 

********************  
Nearly two and a half months after the siege at Adamant, Annie sent word that she would be returning to Skyhold. It was hard to see that she’d slowed down at all in that time although that had been her intention. _She’s too tenacious for her own good,_ Cullen had thought as reports came back during her absence. First she'd outwitted Venatori in the west - beating them to artifacts held within the Hissing Wastes and Forbidden Oasis. Then she had stormed a temple to Dumat uncovering plans that would give the Venatori leader Calpernia pause about continuing to follow him, and finally she had scavenged several elven ruins in hopes of determining how the Elder One would strike next. 

Cullen was anxious and irritable the day Annie was scheduled to arrive at Skyhold. Time was dragging by too slowly. He’d waited so long to see her. What if her feelings for him had changed? What if the spark between them had died out? After snapping at his men without cause during a training session, Cullen dismissed them early and went for a run to clear his head. When he returned, Skyhold was abuzz with activity. The Inquisitor and her entourage had made it home ahead of schedule. 

Not wanting to be a sweaty mess in ratty fatigues when he saw Annie, he ran up the steps to his office two at a time and threw the door open to find Anne perched on the edge of his desk. “Look who’s here,” she’d said with a broad grin before hopping off his desk and racing over to him. She threw her arms around his neck obviously unconcerned that he was drenched in sweat and hugged him fiercely before settling in for a very long kiss. If the ardor of her embrace wasn’t evidence enough that she still cared for him, the rabbit fast pace of her heartbeat against his chest gave her away.

For his part, Cullen was so giddy to see her that he could hardly think straight. As their kiss deepened, he nearly stopped thinking entirely - just relishing the taste of her lips and the press of her body against his. At some point, her legs had wrapped themselves about his waist, and he was holding her ass to keep her from falling. Then she was wedged between him and the ladder that led to his bedroom as she insistently tugged off his tunic and unbuttoned her traveling coat. It was all hard kisses, roaming hands, and removing clothes until one of Leliana’s messengers walked in on them. 

In their haste and excitement to greet each other, they hadn’t remembered to lock the doors. Annie screamed and covered her bare chest with her arms while Cullen pointed toward the door with an authoritative, “Leave. Now.” The messenger practically fell over himself trying to heed Cullen’s directive as quickly as possible - scattering the papers he’d been carrying in his eagerness to exit. Once he was gone, Anne -who was bright red from embarrassment- starting giggling almost uncontrollably as Cullen locked the doors and then double checked them.

“We’re never going to live this down,” she told Cullen who nodded his agreement. 

“It just _had_ to be one of Leliana’s people,” Cullen said with a grin before putting his arm around Anne’s waist and leaning down to kiss her neck. “We should at least put some truth to the rumors that are likely to spread,” he added while sliding his hands down to her rear and pulling her against him. She squeaked her agreement when he pressed himself against her and then nodded his head toward the ladder.

XXXXXXXXXXX

As she climbed up into his room, Cullen stared appreciatively at her swaying ass. Anne must have felt the heat of his gaze because she looked back over her shoulder and gave him a wanton smile as she reached the top of the ladder. Cullen shimmied up after her and soon had her in his arms again while she kicked off her boots and unlaced her pants - only breaking their embrace long enough to free herself from them and her undergarments. When she was before him naked, she pointed at the trousers and shoes he was still wearing.

“Oh, right…” Cullen said as he sat down on his footlocker and took off his shoes. He stood and hesitated to take off his pants as his brain once again started to turn on him. _What if I’m awful? What if I don’t last?”_ he started to fret. 

“Cullen, there’s no rush. If you don’t want to…” Anne said sweetly as she put a hand to his chest. But that wasn’t it. He definitely wanted to. He’d probably never wanted anything so badly in his entire life.

“That’s not it,” he finally answered. “I just really don’t want to screw up.”

Anne kissed his jaw then neck. “Screwing is the general idea,” she said in a low whisper against his ear, and he shivered at the heat of her breath and words.

“Maker, I want you,” Cullen breathed. “It’s just I’m not exactly sure… I mean I know what to do, but my practical experience is well…”

“Cullen,” Annie said in a throaty purr as she unbraided her hair and shook it loose. “Let me teach you.”

Cullen swallowed hard and grabbed the back of his neck. She looked so unbelievably good - the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips. Unable to speak and not wanting to think, he simply nodded his head.

She smiled slyly and came closer. “If you change your mind, or you don’t like something I do just tell me,” she said as her hand trailed down his chest to the laces on his pants. By the time she had him out of his clothes entirely, Cullen was trembling with want.

“Lay down on your back,” Annie directed, and Cullen complied. She crawled in bed beside him and leaned over him dragging her breasts against his chest before kissing his throat. Cullen closed his eyes and grabbed the sheets.

“It’s alright to touch me,” she whispered, and he released the sheets and let his hands move over her body as she kissed his chest and ran her tongue down his abdomen. He tried very hard to keep his lower body still, but he was so aroused that he found himself pumping his hips just to relieve some of the tension. Annie dipped lower and teased him with her mouth. The sensation was overwhelming enough that he couldn’t keep his eyes open. Seeing that he was getting too close, she stopped and instead let her hands trace along his inner thigh.

“Do you still want to do this?” she asked tentatively, and their role reversal struck him as funny. Wasn’t it usually the man that was securing permission? He chuckled at his thought, and Annie looked concerned.

“No, no… nothing’s wrong. I mean I just thought it was funny that … well, never mind. We’re good to go,” he stammered and then wanted to crawl under the bed at the awkwardness of his response.

Anne laughed and put her forehead against his chest before trying to reestablish the mood by kissing him passionately as she moved to straddle him. 

His mind once again kicked in, and he sat up to ask, “Do we need witherstalk or some other preventative?”

“It’s taken care of,” Annie replied.

“Oh, good…” Cullen said as he laid back down. “So … um… what do we do now?” 

Anne nibbled on Cullen’s ear lobe before whispering, “You relax, and I have my way with you. Fair enough?”

“Excellent idea,” Cullen replied and then wanted to smack himself in the head for his response. _Who says “excellent idea” to that? Smooth._

Anne didn’t seem to mind as she positioned herself and then asked one more time, “You’re certain?” Cullen could only bob his head at that point. The sight of her on top of him naked was just too much. He needed her.

She carefully slid down, rolling her hips in slow circles as she took him in. Cullen gasped and then rocked against her instinctively. _Okay, I can see why someone would risk violating fraternization rules for this…_ he thought as she picked up the pace of her movements. His hands clenched her hip bones as he tried to match her actions. 

He knew that staying power was something women admired, but this felt too wonderful. There was no way he was going to last. He tried to slow his movements to pace himself, but Annie leaned forward and said, “It’s alright, Cullen. Come for me.” That was all it took to send him into a frenzy of lust filled thrusts culminating in mind blowing release.

For a few seconds, he was worried that he might pass out. His lips were numb, his limbs were like jelly. Everything felt so wonderful that he started to laugh and then had to beg Annie to stay still when she wiggled on top of him. It was just too much… he wrapped his arms around Anne to keep her from moving as he sat up still joined with her and rested his head against her chest. “That was… wow,” he managed to say once he had caught his breath. 

Anne hugged him tightly in response wrapping her arms and legs about him before whispering “I love you’s” and other sweet nothings in his ear. Eventually they parted, and Annie cuddled up to his chest and then quickly fell asleep. Cullen stayed awake for some time longer languidly tracing her back and shoulder with his hand while wondering why the Maker had blessed him with her. Whatever the reason, he was grateful beyond words.


	16. Chapter 16

Cullen sat up in a disoriented panic still feeling the heat of the mage’s spell and smelling the charred flesh of the templar that entered the room in front of him. His eyes quickly scanned the room as he reoriented himself. _I’m not at the Gallows. This is Skyhold. I’m not being attacked. I’m safe and alone._ Then a small smile crept over his face as he had to revise the litany that he said to himself when the nightmares came. _I’m not alone. Annie’s here,_ he thought as he took in her sleeping form beside him. She was curled in on herself with her hands balled into tiny fists on either side of her cheeks - the picture of innocence and sweet dreams. He rubbed his chin and smiled at the sight of her. She was simply adorable.

Glancing at the hole in his roof, Cullen judged that it was still deep in the night. After getting up to relieve himself, he slid back into bed beside Annie who stirred slightly and opened one eye although Cullen doubted she could see much given the tangle of hair covering her face. She sat up, stretched, and brushed her mop of dark blonde hair aside before groggily asking, “What time is it?”

“It’s late. Go back to sleep,” Cullen advised.

“Is everything alright? Did you have a nightmare?” she questioned while putting her hand to his chest.

Cullen nodded before explaining, “Without lyrium, they’re worse. I don’t want you to worry though. I can manage.”

“Maybe I like taking care of you,” Annie hummed while cuddling up to him and kissing his neck. She felt warm and soft and wonderful as Cullen held her to him.

“It occurs to me that our activities earlier were a bit one sided,” Cullen mused as he rubbed his hand along her back.

“Cullen… it was fine,” Annie began to protest.

“I’d rather not aim for just _fine_ ,” Cullen interrupted.

“Is that so?” Annie asked with a playful lilt as she drug a finger along his chest and challenged him with her eyes. “So what did you have in mind?”

“I thought I might show my appreciation for your patient instruction,” Cullen answered while laying her back and kissing her neck as his hand kneaded her breast.

Cullen didn’t allow himself to think about anything other than Annie in the time that followed. He vowed to study her body with the same tenacity and determination he had once given to the templars - recording the location of each place that elicited a whimper, sigh, giggle, or moan for future reference. He had a great deal of catching up to do, but pleasing Annie was more than worth the effort. 

After their second coupling (which had gone significantly better if Annie’s shivers and squeaks were useful indicators), Annie laid still with her face flushed, eyes closed, and her hair about her like a halo for some time before speaking. Cullen couldn’t help but smirk when she finally broke the silence. “You are a very apt pupil,” was her breathy critique followed by sighing, “Maker…” and then fanning herself.

Facing Leliana at the war council session later that morning was harsh penance for their night of pleasure. The spymaster gleefully seized every opportunity to needle them about their activities and press for details. Cullen had never heard so many innocent phrases turned to innuendo as Leliana used their words against them just to watch them squirm. Even Josephine joined in on the teasing. Cullen stared helplessly across the war table at Annie who shrugged and then shut Leliana down by playfully announcing, “You’re just jealous, and you absolutely should be.”

The spymaster clapped her hands together happily before announcing, “That’s all I needed to know.”

To Cullen’s surprise, Josephine pointed to Annie and said, “She may be satisfied, but I demand more details. You can tell me later.” Clearly he had misinterpreted the Antivan’s demure demeanor. She was every bit as nosy as Leliana if not more so. When Annie gave Josephine a smile that communicated she would be giving details later, Cullen wanted to crawl under the table. _Maker, what have I gotten myself into…_

When the session ended, Cullen was still red-faced even though the teasing had stopped early on. Annie gave him a kiss on the cheek and whispered. “Don’t be embarrassed. They’re happy for us. This is just their way of showing their approval. If this left you uneasy, I’d recommend staying away from the Rest for the next few days. Bull and Sera won’t be nearly as delicate.”

_Neither would Rylen,_ Cullen thought and then felt very relieved that he had assigned his second-in-command to Griffin Wing Keep. He could avoid Sera and Bull with relative ease, but his Knight-Captain and best friend would have been an entirely different matter.

“I have to take off. I have an appointment with Heir,” Anne said making reference to one of the specialists Leliana had hired to hone Anne’s skills.

“Best not to keep the assassin waiting,” Cullen replied feeling worried that Annie would be spending her afternoon with someone so deadly.

“Now you’re as pale as a ghost,” Annie cajoled noting his face had gone from bright red to sheet white. “Heir is harmless. Well, not really… but I trust her. Don’t worry.”

“Just … be careful,” he said. 

Annie smiled and put a hand to his face, “I just realized something. _Be careful_ is Cullenspeak for _I care for you_.”

“Cullenspeak?”

“You have your very own vernacular, Commander, and I’m slowly decoding it,” Annie chirped before leaving to meet Heir.

*********************  
The next month was phenomenal as Annie stayed at Skyhold to train with Heir and work with Leliana to analyze the data they’d collected. Cullen loved seeing her every morning and sleeping beside her every night. For her part, Annie seemed happy, too - leaving love notes and silly cartoons tucked in his things and humming happily while she sifted through information and reports with Leliana and her ciphers. So when Annie appeared in his office one morning wearing a worried visage rather than a warm smile, Cullen knew something was dreadfully wrong.

“Blackwall has disappeared,” she explained as she leaned against the edge of his desk. Cullen still flinched every time she did it, but she’d yet to knock anything off and his office didn’t really have any other place for her to rest. _Perhaps I should bring her a chair,_ he mused and then made himself focus on Annie’s news.

“Disappeared?”

“Last night he was acting really odd. He asked me to have drinks with him and then got very morose at the bar. He told this awful story about watching other boys strangle a puppy when he was a child. It was very clear to me that he was deeply troubled, but he just wouldn’t open up. Then he said he was tired and needed rest. I let him go, Cullen, even though I saw how upset he was. What if we find him like my Uncle?” she asked before starting to cry.

“Annie, don’t jump to conclusions. It may be nothing. Doesn’t he like to go up the mountainside and pick flowers for Josephine? He could have just gotten an early start,” Cullen offered.

Annie shook her head and handed Cullen the note Blackwall had left. Reading it, he could see the cause for Annie’s concern. It had a certain finality to it that left him chilled. “Have you asked Cole?” Cullen questioned and then couldn’t believe he was actually advising Annie to seek out that thing. Yet whatever Cole was, he certainly knew when others were in pain, and if the cryptic notes of “encouragement” he would sometimes send Cullen were any indicator, Cole could sense hurts secreted in the dark recesses of someone’s mind.

“If you can decipher what Cole says about Blackwall, I’ll bet you’ll be able to find him … or at least know his mental state,” Cullen continued. Annie kissed Cullen’s cheek and took off toward the tavern immediately while Cullen leaned over his desk and prayed that Cole would have good news.

Cole didn’t. Neither did Leliana’s agents who had scoured Blackwall’s possessions and determined that he might have left for Val Royeaux to stop an execution. As Annie hurriedly packed her bags, Cullen tried to reason through what might be happening. “Grey Wardens often conscript people condemned to death. Perhaps that’s his intention. The man scheduled to die had once been an officer in the Orleasian army, and the Wardens certainly need to replenish their ranks after Adamant. In his rush to stop the execution, he might have forgotten to tell people what he was doing.”

Annie looked over at Cullen and shook her head. They both knew there had to be more to it than that. Cole’s reading of Blackwall had mentioned righting an injustice, and Blackwall’s analogy about the hanged puppy didn’t fit a scenario about conscription. “Maybe he knows something to establish the man’s innocence,” Cullen conjectured.

“How would a Grey Warden that has been supposedly living alone in Ferelden for the past decade have any clue about a crime that happened in Orlais?” Anne quizzed pointedly.

Cullen couldn’t argue against what she said. The entire situation seemed very off, but he hoped for Annie’s sake that there was a reasonable explanation for Blackwall’s behavior. Much like her relationship with Bull, Annie saw Blackwall like an older brother or uncle. Blackwall appeared to have taken to that role and continued to dote on Anne even after he stopped being infatuated with her.

So when they stood in Val Royeaux’s bazaar a few days later watching Blackwall stand at the gallows and declare that he was actually a wanted man rather than a warden, Cullen could see Anne crumbling before his eyes. She wasn’t a person that was stingy with affection. When she cared about someone, she gave them her whole heart. Blackwall’s admission shattered her. She hadn’t even been able to stay as Blackwall was placed in shackles - instead she had pushed her way through the crowd, ran toward the docks, and clung to the balustrade shaking her head with her eyes closed tightly as if she could simply wish it all away.

Cullen was furious - at Blackwall for his deception and at Leliana and himself for not having caught it. The nature of Blackwall’s crime made the gorge rise in Cullen’s throat. Blackwall, whose real name was Captain Thom Rainier, had led a group of loyal soldiers to assassinate an Orleasian general on behalf of a noble making a power play in Orlais’ Grand Game. Then when the mission had gone sideways and his people had killed not only the general but his wife and children, Blackwall had fled rather than face the consequences of his treachery. 

Some part of Blackwall’s actions struck too close to home for Cullen. Both of them had been a party to killing innocents by “following orders.” He’d stood with his men enforcing Meredith’s decision to cut down the mages at Kirkwall’s Circle when few (if any) had any knowledge of Anders’ plans. Yes, he had eventually stood up to Meredith, but how many people both mage and templar were dead because he hadn’t done that sooner? It sickened him to think of the man he had been and the man Rainier apparently was.

He put his hand on Anne’s back to alert her to his presence and then waited for her to be ready to talk. “He was always evasive about the Wardens. I thought he was protecting the Order’s secrets when he was actually scrambling to maintain his cover. I should have known when he wasn’t affected by the false Calling, but I wanted to believe there was an incorruptible warden. I’m such a fool,” Anne lamented.

“You are far from the only person he deceived, Annie. There are plenty of other people - myself included - that could have caught his duplicity and didn’t,” Cullen reminded.

Anne stared across the lake for some time before speaking. “Do you think any of what he showed us was real - or was it all a persona?”

“He clearly lied, and what he led his men to do was unconscionable. But the danger he placed himself in for our cause was real. He didn’t have to save that man’s life either. He could have let him hang and take Rainier’s secrets to the grave with him, but he didn’t. I’m not sure what that means,” Cullen admitted.

Anne started to twirl an arrow between her fingers - a sure sign that she was weighing her options. “I know that we could see him released to us, but I’m not sure I’m fit to judge him.”

“Do you feel too close to the situation to be objective?” Cullen queried.

Anne shook her head and looked like she was about to be ill. “No. How can I judge him given my own past? I’ve been a party to theft and smuggling. I’ve whored myself to get closer to marks. I gave the Crows and Carta information that allowed them to carry out hits. And when the opportunity presented itself, I seized upon the Inquisition as a chance to start over. What if he was doing the same thing? Can I hold that against him?”

Cullen struggled with Annie’s words. He knew that she had worked as a spy, but it was difficult hearing her put into words how very deeply she had been immersed in that life. It was easier to let Leliana’s report sit largely unread in his desk drawer than confront Annie’s past. It was simpler to tell himself that she had simply sold a few secrets than to think that she had sold herself to obtain them, but he knew enough about the world to not be entirely surprised by her admission. Men’s lips were often loosest in a lover’s arms, and Anne was a beautiful woman.

“From the look on your face, Leliana’s report about me must not have been very comprehensive,” Anne worried.

“I never finished it,” Cullen confessed. 

"I suppose it would be fitting if you dumped me now," Anne sighed as she returned her eyes to the lake's surface. “I’m sorry. I thought you knew. I didn't try to hide who I was although I did try to cover my shame about it."

“You once told me that you didn’t know the man I was but that you liked the man I am. That’s how I feel about you. I never knew that other Anne, and I won’t hold what she did against you,” Cullen said emphatically. “I love you just as you are.”


	17. Chapter 17

Cullen clenched and unclenched his fist as Blackwall berated Anne in front of all those assembled in Skyhold’s main hall for the false warden’s judgement. Blackwall first derided Anne for having used the Inquisition’s political connections to see him released to her custody. Then the ungrateful bastard went so far as to draw attention to Annie’s life prior to the Inquisition as evidence of the organization’s corruption as well as her own. Throughout it all, Anne sat silently on her throne maintaining an air of dignity and calm that Cullen knew was merely a well crafted facade. Blackwall’s words were no doubt cutting to her very core, and Cullen knew he’d be the one trying to rebuild her self worth after Blackwall’s brutal assault. It was incredibly tempting to interrupt the trial and simply toss the liar off the battlements. Blackwall clearly wanted to die as evidenced by how he was intentionally provoking the person in charge of deciding his fate. Cullen could scarcely see why they shouldn’t simply oblige him.

Anne took in Blackwall’s words without comment and then rendered her judgement freeing him entirely. Cullen was shocked. He had expected Anne to remand the grizzled veteran to the Wardens or imprison him. For his part, Blackwall seemed stunned as well - standing with his mouth slightly agape as the guards unfastened his shackles. Then he kneeled before Anne and pledged his sword to the Inquisition. Cullen would have felt semi-satisfied with the outcome had Blackwall not thrown a low blow as he stood asking if he would have been shot through with an arrow from the rookery had he not volunteered his service. Anne’s eyes at had narrowed slightly at those words before she simply turned away. Cullen, however, was enraged at Blackwall’s audacious ingratitude.

Ignoring the advice he gave his soldiers about avoiding confrontation in the heat of the moment, Cullen followed Blackwall out of the keep. When they reached the courtyard in front of the armory, Cullen called out, “You there - Blackwall, Rainier, or whatever your name is … I’d have a word with you.” The way Blackwall turned to face Cullen made it clear that he knew they were unlikely to have a civil discussion. “Is it your habit to return mercy with spite?” Cullen snarled.

“I merely spoke the truth,” Blackwall answered standing his ground.

“The truth? From you?” Cullen spat. “No, you _merely_ wanted to shame someone who dared to show you kindness you clearly don’t deserve.”

“You’re upset I shook the pedestal you’ve placed your lover on,” Blackwall threw back while taking a threatening step toward Cullen.

Cullen completely lost it, drawing his sword and tossing it aside before rushing to tackle Blackwall. The older man was fast and sidestepped his charge landing a hard blow to Cullen’s gut. Cullen kicked Blackwall’s legs out from under him and then pummeled his face with his fists until Blackwall kneed him in the stomach. The two men were rolling around in the courtyard exchanging blows when Cassandra’s harsh voice rang out, “Enough! Both of you.” while Bull and Krem pulled them apart.

Cullen spat blood as he glared around Bull’s hulking frame toward Blackwall. Bull put a hand against his shoulder and said, “Whoa there, big guy. You’re in enough trouble as it is,” while gesturing with his head to the steps leading from the main keep where Anne was staring down at them. She descended the stairs quickly and was soon standing near Cullen and Blackwall looking positively livid.

“He started it,” Blackwall announced while pointing at Cullen.

“I’ll be more than happy to finish it, too,” Cullen shouted as he tried to get around Bull to reach Blackwall.

“Commander, stand down,” Anne said authoritatively before turning to the Inquisition guards who were waiting nearby confused as to how they were to handle the incident. “Arrest these men, and take to them to the healers. I will deal with them later.” Then looking at Cullen squarely she said, “And I do mean _healers_ \- not the apothecary and not the surgeon.”

Cullen wanted to protest. He religiously avoided having magic used on him enduring much slower recoveries aided by potions and time rather than submit to healers. Anne was making a point, and he was fairly certain it was part of whatever punishment she would be meting out. 

Cullen didn’t resist being shackled and even smiled sheepishly at the guard tasked with putting him in chains. He didn’t envy the man who was no doubt concerned about the repercussions of his actions. Cullen wouldn’t hold it against him, but he didn’t know that. Cullen was more worried about Anne’s reaction. Anne’s slight growl and steely eyes as he passed by told Cullen that he was in deep trouble. It would take more than a bouquet of flowers to get back in her good graces.

The healers seemed surprised and apprehensive when the guards delivered Cullen to their care. It was well known that the Commander was a former templar and not keen on magic being used in his presence much less on him. “Inquisitor’s orders,” he said as an explanation, and the chief healer chuckled before saying, “You must have really made her angry, Commander.”

“You could say that,” Cullen agreed. “Let’s just get this over with … okay?” He white knuckled it as the healer set to work. The healer was gentle and proficient, but Cullen’s stomach roiled as her spells touched him and the remnants of lyrium in his body sang in harmony with the magic. When she had finished knitting his broken ribs, Cullen had to interrupt the session to vomit before she could start on his bloodied hands and battered face.

Cullen was shaky and pale when the healer stopped casting spells and passed him a potion to still his nerves. “You did very well,” she said gently while putting a hand on his shoulder. Her eyes were very kind, and Cullen felt guilty for distrusting her and her gifts. Outside of his heightened anxiety, Cullen felt considerably better. Blackwall had given as good as he got, and it would have been several weeks of Cullen gritting his teeth together as his ribs mended had he not seen the healer.

A short while later, Anne appeared in the doorway of the infirmary with her arms crossed against her chest. “Honestly, Cullen, what were you thinking?” she fretted while she picked the lock to his shackles. She opened it so quickly that Cullen at first thought she had used a key.

“You’re really good at that,” he remarked about her lock picking before answering her question. “I wasn’t thinking. I was angry at how he spoke to you, and I lost control.”

Anne smiled slightly at his words. “Defending my honor then?” she quizzed while passing him a wet rag to wash the blood off his face and hands. 

Knowing Anne’s weak stomach, Cullen took care to wipe himself before speaking more to her. Once he felt sufficiently clean, Cullen admitted he had been trying to do just that and then apologized. “I am sorry. I should set a better example for the people under my command.”

“I agree. As a leader, I expect more from you. This can never happen again, or I will be forced to relieve you, Commander,” Anne answered loud enough that the eavesdropping healers and soldiers standing nearby could hear. Then she dropped her voice to a whisper and added, “But I can’t say Blackwall didn’t have it coming,” before giving him a wink. _Perhaps I’m not in as much trouble as I originally guessed,_ Cullen thought with relief.


	18. Chapter 18

Anne was quiet. In Cullen’s experience, that was rarely a good sign. She was almost always making some sort of noise whether it was talking, humming, or snapping her fingers to whatever song she had stuck in her head at the moment. Even when she was asleep, Anne was noisy - muttering to herself and smacking her lips. When Anne was quiet, it meant one of three things. She was either sad, angry, or weighing a big decision. Cullen sat down the reports he’d been reading and watched Anne for clues.

She was sitting on the end of the bed ritualistically applying lotion to her legs and arms. When at Skyhold, Anne loved indulging in routines that she couldn't enjoy while traveling. Cullen had grown privy to nearly all of her habits in their months together. There was her morning wake up - languid stretching in bed, followed by an oath infused battle to tame her hair, then standing in the closet staring at her clothes for several minutes before getting dressed, and finally crawling back in bed with a cup of hot tea and paperwork. She had her mid-day round of prayers and complaining about the smell of incense. Then there was her evening ritual - bathing, followed by cursing her hair as she brutally attacked its tangles, then carefully applying lotion to her arms and legs while examining them critically (Cullen had no clue what she was looking for), and finally either putting on night clothes (if she was tired) or letting the towel she was wrapped in fall to the floor (if she wasn’t). Her routines were constant - as was the chatter that came out of her mouth as she attended to them, but right now Anne was quiet.

Cullen studied how she was applying the lotion. If she was angry, her movements would be swift and jerky. Noting that her actions were fluid, he ruled out that possibility. If she was considering something, she would pause often and stare ahead while twisting her lips. She was attending to her ritual with singular focus, however, so Cullen intuited that she was sad instead of lost in thought. He weighed his options carefully - dealing with a quiet Annie was a bit like happening upon a barrel of explosives. It wasn’t something you could simply ignore, but if you made the wrong move, it was guaranteed to blow up in your face. An angry Anne was best left alone until she started spewing whatever had her upset. A contemplative Anne appreciated being asked what she was considering and engaging in a discourse about it. But a sad Anne? Cullen still had difficulty managing that one.

He decided it would be best to move closer to her without speaking. At times, his physical proximity would be enough to either snap her out of her funk or release whatever pressure valve was holding back the words to express herself. He sat down on the bed behind her, but she only sighed and kept rubbing in the lotion. Cullen grabbed the back of his neck as he searched for any hint that might tell him whether it would be best to offer a supportive hug, distract her with conversation, or ask her what was wrong. That last option … that was a tricky one. It could lead to a tearful “men just don’t get it” diatribe, or it could produce a profound revelation that demystified another aspect of his chameleon-like lover and brought them closer.

Feeling brave or stupid (He wasn’t sure which would apply until he saw the result.), Cullen opted for the direct approach. “Something bothering you?” he asked while putting his hand on Annie’s back. When she nodded, put down her lotion, and crawled into his lap, Cullen knew he’d made the right call. Anne rested her head against his shoulder and played with the medal of a warrior Andraste he wore about his neck while he rubbed her upper arm and waited.

Anne took a deep breath and started talking. “I was late - not just a little. I mean _really_ late - like four or five weeks. ” Cullen was briefly confused until he realized she was talking about her cycle. _Maker,_ he thought as he took in the implications of her words and tried his best to hide the sheer terror they brought him. “And now I’m not… late that is. I should be relieved - right? We’re in the middle of a war. We’re not married. We haven’t even discussed anything long term, so I should be relieved - right?”

Cullen had no idea how to answer that question. For his part, he was exceptionally relieved. Not that he didn’t want children someday or hadn’t considered marrying Annie later. He knew without a doubt that he loved her and couldn’t envision a future without her, but they _were_ at war. She was also incredibly young, and he was still getting used to the idea of being in a relationship. A child would have complicated matters immeasurably. 

Figuring that she was well aware of those facts, he decided to sidestep her question by asking another. “You seem sad. Are you disappointed?”

“I shouldn’t be. We’re getting ready to take on Corypheus and what remains of his armies. I hardly need to be distracted when I face him in the Arbor Wilds. Not to mention birthing a bastard wouldn’t exactly help my relationship with my family. My mother just began writing to me in the past few months, and my father even signed his name to her last letter. I miss them so much,” she rasped and then brushed aside a few tears before scooting backward to make eye contact with Cullen.

“I was so scared I couldn’t even tell you there was a possibility I was pregnant. I was trying to steel myself to see a healer to find out for sure. I should be cartwheeling about the room in relief, but I’m not. Now I’m dumping this on you, and you’re going to think it’s a way to pressure you for a commitment which it absolutely isn’t. I just… Maker, I hate hormones!” Anne exclaimed as she burst into tears.

Cullen purposefully ignored her comment about hormones. Having an older sister had taught him to act as if he didn’t notice Anne’s pronounced monthly mood changes. It was simply better for all concerned to show up armed with chocolate and a long fuse on such days. He felt guilty that he hadn’t even noticed she’d missed her period, but the past weeks had been incredibly busy and stressful as they moved resources and troops to confront Corypheus in the Arbor Wilds. He weighed his words, and then tried to address why Annie might feel upset about not being pregnant.

“You were raised with the expectation of marrying well and producing heirs, but your value doesn’t come from having children,” he said definitively before pausing to add, “It also doesn’t come from leading the Inquisition or sealing rifts, Annie.”

“Says the man who nearly works himself to death in search of absolution,” Annie returned.

“We’re quite the pair,” Cullen laughed as he folded Annie into his arms. “But I will say this much … as far as I’m concerned, the only future worth having has you in it.”

In response, Annie smiled his favorite type of smile - the kind that made the little creases around her eyes deepen and her hazel eyes glimmer - before she snuggled up to his chest again and whispered “I love you,” against his neck. Then she cleared her throat and said, “Don’t worry. I’ll be extra, extra careful from now on. I never missed a day of potion, so we should probably add in witherstalk just in case. It’s messy but effective. The only problem is that is has to be fresh which isn’t an issue here with the gardens nearby, but in the Wilds…”

“We’ll just need to be creative. There’s more than one way to make love,” Cullen offered.

*************************  
They never had a chance to get creative. Cullen reached the Wilds along with the bulk of his forces a few days ahead of Annie's arrival there. The fighting was so intense that he didn't even have a chance to leave the battlefront to greet her and was only able to share a brief embrace before she pushed forward to the Temple of Mythal. She had disappeared entirely along with her team after she went in the ruin. Leliana’s best guess was that the Inquisitor had left through a large eluvian deep within the temple. Cullen hated the idea of Anne interacting with the eluvian’s odd magics, but he tried not to fixate on where she had gone. He had soldiers to command, enemies to subdue, wounded to evacuate, and dead to bury. Annie would be fine. She had to be.

When a raven from Skyhold found its way to the front a few days later with news that the Inquisitor and her team were safely ensconced in Skyhold, Cullen felt energized. He couldn't wait to wrap up operations in the Wilds and return to Annie, but first he had to finish dealing with Corypheus' forces that were left behind when the magister fled the field. Most of the remaining Red Templars refused to surrender - falling on their swords rather than being captured. Cullen felt sorry for them. They were either true believers or so far gone in their addictions that they had lost all hope when their “god” abandoned them. 

The Venatori were less predictable in their reactions. Some sought out Inquisition forces and actively surrendered while others had retreated even before Corypheus had. The few remaining laid in wait to ambush Cullen's soldiers in what were essentially suicide attacks given the Inquisition's superior numbers.

From what Cullen could surmise, few Wardens that had joined Corypheus survived the fighting. They had served as an honor guard of sorts to the magister. When Corypheus fled, they had been slaughtered by the strange elves that guarded the temple. Cullen was relieved that those elves had stopped attacking his men shortly after Anne entered the temple. He rightly assumed that she had been able to negotiate some sort of truce with them.

Nearly all of the Inquisition's forces were in the Wilds - their numbers swelled by members of the Orleasian army. When the last stragglers from Corypheus' army were rounded up, Cullen handed his plans for troop withdrawals to his captains and set out for Skyhold.

Cullen was disappointed to discover that he had missed Annie by days when he finally made it back to Skyhold. Leliana had been back at the keep for a week and informed him that the Inquisitor had left three days earlier with Morrigan, Cassandra, Solas, and Dorian to search for a way to defeat Corypheus. Leliana also shared the disconcerting news that Corypheus was somehow able to regenerate himself - becoming effectively immortal by transferring his soul into any blighted creature when he became gravely injured. Based on arcane knowledge she had gathered at the temple, Morrigan felt certain that the key to defeating Corypheus was to first kill his dragon and then quickly end the magister himself. Cullen disliked the idea of relying on ancient magics and Morrigan. He especially disliked the idea of taking on a dragon - particularly one infused with red lyrium.

"It never ends," he said in a weary voice to the spymaster.

"Have faith, Commander," Leliana replied. "We're very close. Corypheus has no appreciable armies or supporters.”

“He is merely an immortal with a dragon and an artifact capable of tearing the fabric of reality,” Cullen retorted sarcastically. “No problem.”

Cullen had more on his mind than just Corypheus - not that he would mention it to Leliana. He and Annie hadn’t really dealt with the _scare_. Anne had mentioned it. He’d made his commentary. She’d promised to be more cautious, and the subject had been dropped. Except it hadn’t really been dropped - just avoided. They had also managed to avoid sex, too, for several weeks. Then they had left separately for the Wilds with matters still unresolved. 

Some part of Cullen worried that Annie was purposefully avoiding him - especially when she had left Skyhold so quickly. Cullen told himself that she was simply being prudent. Corypheus was sure to reappear, and she needed to be ready to finish him off when he did. It didn’t stop him from being concerned that he had somehow failed a relationship litmus test in how he responded to Annie. 

Every day that went by without word from the Inquisitor made Cullen more convinced that she was preparing to end things. He became especially fretful when a messenger arrived with a letter to Leliana saying that Anne and her team were on the way back to Skyhold. Anne hadn’t written him at all. That couldn’t be good.

So when Annie showed up in his office a few nights later while he spoke with his officers, Cullen was filled with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. He ended the meeting quickly, saw his officers out, and then smiled faintly when he noticed Annie locking the doors to his office. _That has to be a good sign,_ Cullen thought then he got worried. _What if she’s locking the doors so no one interrupts her dumping me?_ He felt his shoulders knot up, and he reached to the back of his neck to try to ease the tension.

“Rough night?” Annie quizzed.

Cullen rubbed his forehead and sighed. “You could say that, but it’s good to see you,” he answered with a cautious smile which she didn’t return. She instead cocked her head to the side and looked worried. He decided to fiddle with papers on his desk rather than look at her. 

“Do you want me to leave?” Anne asked hesitantly.

“What? No, not at all. I … uh… just thought that …umm…” he fumbled.

Anne furrowed her brow and leaned against his desk. Cullen flinched. She was sure to knock something off or worse yet spill something on the maps and reports he’d just updated. Anne noticed his disquiet and moved away. “Maybe I should come back later… I’ve had a long day. It was a difficult ride home - lots of rain. I’m sure my hair is a sight,” she began to ramble as she nervously patted her hair and inched toward the door.

“No! Don’t go!” Cullen called out and caught her by the arm. “I feel like things have been off between us, and I want to fix that,” he finally admitted.

“Well, you’re the one giving me the stink eye and weak smiles. I pushed hard to make it back here tonight. The least I expected was a kiss hello - not someone more interested in what’s on his desk than me,” Anne snapped.

“I’m not more interested in the papers than you that is. I just … are you here to end things?” Cullen asked bluntly.

“What?” Anne queried in a completely baffled tone. “Why in the Maker’s name would I do that?”

Cullen began to stutter an explanation but then held up a hand while he organized his thoughts. After taking a moment, he explained, “We haven’t been intimate in some time. You didn’t write to me, but you sent word to Leliana that you were coming home. I just assumed that I had somehow mismanaged my response to the pregnancy scare and…”

“Oh for the Maker’s sake, Cullen,” Anne interrupted. “I _did_ write to you, but I sent that messenger to the Wilds. I had no idea that you’d made it back to Skyhold already. And as far as sex…” Anne again leaned against his desk and looked down at the floor before speaking in a strained voice, “My cycle was much worse than usual. So much so that I went to the healers. It turns out I was having a miscarriage not a late period. They gave me some herbs to help things along and encouraged me to rest.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Cullen asked while putting his hand on Annie’s chin and lifting her face to meet his eyes.

“There wasn’t anything you could do. Late period or miscarriage - same result,” Anne shrugged and looked away . “It wasn’t the right time. It was a blessing if you think about it.” she said before beginning to sob. “And I really didn’t want to cry like this in front of you,” she exhaled as she buried her face in her hands.

Cullen put his arms around her and held her to him as her shoulders shook with grief. “Annie, I’m so sorry that you went through that alone then headed straight to a war front. Had I known…”

“Had you known you would have tried to delay our action in the Wilds” Anne interjected. “We might have lost the eluvian to Corypheus.”

As a commander, Cullen couldn’t argue with her assessment. As her lover and friend, he disagreed entirely. “You matter more than any eluvian,” he soothed.

“But not more than the world, Cullen. If I hadn’t lost the baby, how long would have I been able to keep traveling and fighting? Even if Corypheus wasn’t an issue, I’d still have been unmarried without a job or any family support,” she argued.

“No, you wouldn’t have. I would have been there with you. I would have never left you to manage on your own,” Cullen said softly.

“And I wouldn’t want to trap you like that,” Anne retorted.

“It isn’t trapping someone if they want to be there,” Cullen countered. “I want to be with you, Annie. Don’t ever let yourself doubt that.”

“But what if this means that I can’t…” Anne’s voice broke again, and she took a shuddering breath before continuing. “What if there’s something wrong with me, and I can’t carry a child? I know that now isn’t a good time, but isn’t that something that _you_ want someday?”

“Possibly,” Cullen said with a nod. “But I want you more. I never imagined I’d find anyone to love. Then I met you, and everything changed. I’m afraid that you’re stuck with me.”

Annie snubbed and then nodded before kissing his lips gently and the resting her head on his shoulder. “You’re stuck with me, too."


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut in the first few paragraphs before the first asterisk for those that care to skip it.

Cullen couldn’t sleep. He was too busy browbeating himself for being unaware of Annie’s miscarriage. She didn’t seem angry with him. In fact, she had laughed hard when he’d carried her up the stairs to her room after she’d groaned at the thought of climbing them. Then she’d attended to her evening ritual, snuggled beside him on the sofa, and promptly fallen asleep. After tucking her into bed, Cullen had finished some work and then laid down himself. Attracted to his warmth, Anne had cuddled close to him while smacking her lips contentedly. She was precious, and he hated himself for failing her. 

Hoping that he might drop off if he could get more comfortable, Cullen shifted in bed unintentionally rousing Anne. She raised up on one arm and brushed her unruly hair out of her face with the other. “Can’t sleep?” she yawned. “Do you want me to rub your shoulders?”

Her offer made Cullen feel even worse. “No,” he said abruptly then softened his tone. “I should be taking care of you not the other way around.”

Anne sighed. “Cullen, please don’t do this. I’ve tortured myself over what happened more than enough for both of us. Just hold me, tell me you love me, and maybe let your hands sneak under my nightdress.”

“You’d want that?” Cullen asked hesitantly.

“You’re kidding, right?” Anne asked incredulously. “Of course I want that. I miss you. I miss us,” she said earnestly before getting a devious smile and letting her hand wander underneath the sheets. “I miss this,” she purred seductively.

He didn’t need more of a suggestion than that to take action - crushing his lips against hers and tugging at her clothes. Perhaps it would have been more appropriate to be tender in that moment, but he was too filled with worry and want to be gentle. Anne seemed equally eager, quickly disrobing and matching the intensity of his kisses and touches with her own. Curtailing their passion long enough to grab a sprig of witherstalk from pots Anne had wisely requested servants place in the room, Anne applied the slimy sap to Cullen’s member and then begged him to have his way with her.

They awoke the next morning and then made love again - taking their time to relish being with each other. When they finished, Anne had rested her head on his shoulder and cooed, “You certainly know how to make a girl feel like you’re happy to see her.” Cullen chuckled and rubbed his hand along her back. He was still worried - not as much about their current relationship but their future. He’d never permitted himself to make long term plans. To do so during war tempted fate too much, but he could see that the conflict could very well end in the upcoming weeks to months. What would happen then? Would Anne remain with the Inquisition? Would she want to return to her family?

Annie’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Cullen, stop thinking,” she advised as she played with his medal of Andraste. “It will all work out.”

“Am I that obvious?” he asked while craning his neck to see her better.

“Absolutely. Surely our games of Wicked Grace have made it abundantly clear that you are one of the easiest reads around, or do you just enjoy losing money?” Anne teased.

“I thought I was showing some improvement,” Cullen countered. “I won twice the last time we played.”

“Oh, honey…” Annie laughed. “Varric was purposefully dealing you winning hands. Didn’t you see him taking cards from the bottom of the deck?”

Cullen let out a disappointed sigh. “No.”

Anne patted his chest and kissed his cheek. “Just promise me one thing - never play against Josephine. She’s absolutely ruthless and likes to lure people into betting their clothes by playing the innocent Antivan. I lost a very nice dress and some lacy garters to her that way.”

Cullen’s ears pricked up. “You had lacy garters? Why didn’t I get to see them?” 

“I got them in Val Royeaux when I went with her to meet with that fake Comte. They never made it home with me,” Anne said wistfully.

“That’s quite possibly one of the saddest things I’ve ever heard,” Cullen jokingly mourned. “We should go back to Val Royeaux sometime. Do a little shopping of our own.”

“Really?” Anne asked. “You don’t seem like a spend-the-day-at-the-bazaar kind of guy.”

“I can make an exception for lacy things,” Cullen smiled. “Especially _red_ lacy things.”

Anne snorted. “You are _such_ a man.”

********************

A little over a week later, Anne and her advisors were standing around the war table discussing how to track Corypheus when Anne felt a sharp pain in her hand as the mark started to swirl and glow. She doubled over in pain just as the Breach reopened in the sky.

“Looks like we won’t have to hunt him down,” Anne gasped as she rubbed her hand and slowly righted herself.

“Nearly all of our soldiers are still in the Arbor Wilds,” Cullen responded. He didn’t want Anne to leave without adequate reinforcements.

“This isn’t going to let me wait for them,” Anne replied while holding up her hand which was throbbing with magic. It was evident to everyone in the room that the Anchor wasn’t merely active but also expanding.

“Some of my agents can accompany you to Haven, Inquisitor. Scout Harding returned just yesterday. I will see that the necessary arrangements are made, and that your team is informed,” Leliana said with curt professionalism.

“I shall ready myself as well,” Morrigan announced and quickly exited the room. 

Josephine looked between Cullen and Anne. “I shall send word to our allies near Haven. Perhaps they can provide assistance to you,” the Antivan declared and then put a hand on Cullen’s upper arm. He didn’t even realize how tightly he was gripping his sword hilt until he felt Josie’s hand. “Maker watch over you,” Josephine prayed as she bowed and left.

“Annie…” Cullen choked out as he rounded the table and hugged her tightly. “Come back to me.”

Anne didn’t argue with him, but the harsh breath she inhaled told him that she doubted whether she could comply. “Promise me,” he whispered, and she nodded slowly while holding him closer.

She broke away from him first. “I’ve got to go,” she said and reached up to smooth her hair. He took her hand, kissed her palm, and then held it to his cheek while saying, “Your hair is fine, Annie.”

“I love you, too,” she answered having successfully translated another phrase of Cullenspeak.

The next days were some of the longest and most difficult of Cullen’s life. He spent the majority of his waking hours in prayer - stopping only to get brief reports from his officers and issue orders. The heavy fragrance of incense was as comforting to him as it was cloying to Anne. Frankly, it reminded him of her. The smoke from her mid-day prayers always settled into her hair and clothes - clinging to her even after she bathed. So as he prayed to the Maker for her success and safety, he enjoyed some sense of her presence as he took in the thick aroma of the altar candles and censors.

Then it was over. Leliana appeared in the chapel telling him to look at the sky. The Breach had been sealed. Annie had succeeded. His heart clenched. What had been the cost of her victory? She had been rendered unconscious for three days after closing the primary rift below the Breach on her own. The first time she’d sealed the Breach she had been assisted by dozens of templars nullifying its magic. This time she had done it alone. 

Cullen couldn’t bear the thought of waiting for a raven with details of the battle. He raced out of the chantry courtyard and did something he never thought he would do. He actively sought out Cole. Anne had left the spirit-man behind to assist with caring for the wounded who were arriving in Skyhold daily from the Arbor Wilds. Cullen headed directly to the infirmary and looked around for Cole’s floppy hat and stained leathers.

“You’re worried about her,” Cole said as he appeared at Cullen’s side. “She’s very hard to hear, but she’s still there - relieved and … annoyed?” Cole added in a questioning tone then paused as if listening intently. He laughed slightly to himself and then said, “The dragon singed her hair. Now it smells bad in addition to being frizzy.”

Cullen nearly sunk to his knees in relief. She was fine. She was coming home, and she still hated her hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be traveling the next week and leaving my computer at home. (Hooray for 20th anniversary 2nd honeymoons!) As such, I won't be updating for a bit. Don't worry. I'll come back tan and ready to write. :)


	20. Chapter 20

Cullen fought hard not to break ranks when he saw Anne and her companions returning to Skyhold through the main gate. Nearly everyone from soldiers to cooks, scouts to shopkeepers had assembled in the courtyard and along the battlements to welcome them home. Cullen was standing with Leliana and Josephine on the very landing where Anne had been named Inquisitor mere months before. The changes that had occurred in that time were mind-boggling. The Inquisition had grown into one of the most powerful organizations in Thedas. The threat presented by Corypheus had been ended. He had overcome the worst of his addiction, and most amazingly, he had found certainty and love.

Anne was scanning the crowd. Although her face was wearing a victor’s smile, her eyes were fretful until she saw Cullen. Then her smile became genuine as she radiated happiness and took off running toward him. There was no way he was going to not meet her halfway, so he hurried down the steps and caught her in his arms - hugging her tightly to the roaring approval of the crowd. It was hard to let go of her, but he recognized that he had to. People expected to share the victory with their leader - not watch her embrace her Commander. He was ecstatic then when Anne took a firm hold of his hand as she made her way through the crowd. She never let go of him - not while giving an exultant speech or accepting hundreds of congratulations afterward.

Somewhere in the middle of the celebration, Cullen noticed Annie’s hair and got an amused grin on his face. Sera must have given her a haircut after the dragon singed it. Anne’s hair had once hung to the middle of her back when dry (and nearly to her waist when wet). Now it was barely shoulder length with messy layers obviously sawed off with a dagger. With so much weight removed, Anne’s natural curls were much more pronounced and made tight, bouncy ringlets. The style suited her - drawing more attention to her emotive eyes, but Cullen was sure that he’d still hear her raging at her hair each morning. 

“I like your hair,” he whispered to her during a lull in handshaking. If Anne had been a mage, Cullen would have likely been frozen solid or burned to a crisp if the look she gave him was any indicator. He tried not to laugh, but the vehemence of her reaction was just too funny and a small snicker sneaked past his lips. Anne growled and tried to let go of his hand, but he simply held hers tighter and added an arm about her waist.

“It isn’t funny,” Anne snarled.

“It is actually,” Cullen chuckled and then gave Anne an apologetic kiss on the cheek while adding, “Maker but I love you, Annie.”

Anne’s face softened as she brushed a wayward ringlet aside before putting her hand tenderly against Cullen’s cheek. Then she got a mischievous grin, reached up, and quickly mussed Cullen’s perfectly controlled coif. “Now we match,” she announced gleefully while Cullen let go of her waist and tried to tame his hair while she belly laughed at his aggravation.

“You two are sickeningly adorable,” Dorian snarked. “Too much more of this, and I shall have to vomit in Vivienne’s ridiculous hat.”

“At least I don’t go around calling him _Kadan_ every other word,” Anne tossed back.

“Touchy touchy,” Dorian replied with a wave of his hand. “I’ll leave the two of you to indulge in your public displays," he added as he sauntered away.

“Kadan?” Cullen questioned.

“It’s a Qunari term - like ‘my love’ but with an even deeper connotation,” Anne explained.

“And _Dorian_ calls _Bull_ that?” Cullen asked with amusement. He couldn’t imagine the arrogant Tevinter being so obvious with his affection.

“All. The. Time,” Anne said emphatically. “So much so that Sera and I made up a drinking game. One drink for every time Dorian says “Kadan.” Two for when Bull uses the term. And empty your mug when Varric mentions Bianca. We only played once. I’m not sure I’ve ever been more inebriated in my life.”

********************************

Cullen hoped that he’d see more of Anne after the war ended. Thedas, however, had other ideas as Skyhold was inundated with letters of congratulation from kings, queens, and nobles that also included not so subtle reminders of fade rifts, Venatori, and Red Templars that remained in their holdings. In the first year after her victory, Anne was almost constantly afield - sealing rifts and rooting out Corypheus’ remaining followers while also attending dinners and banquets held in the Inquisition’s honor. Additionally, she searched vainly for Solas who had left with little explanation once the blighted magister fell.

At first, Anne made an effort to return to Skyhold at least once a month, but her visits felt too brief and their time apart too long for Cullen’s liking. When she was home, he tried to enjoy her presence but often found himself growing irritable and distant in anticipation of her leaving yet again. Anne responded by stretching out the time she spent away. With Cullen’s tendency to procrastinate writing letters, their relationship began to cool considerably. Anne’s notes to him about her adventures became increasingly terse, and she eventually stopped drawing cartoons on the bottom all together.

The gap between them was especially pronounced when Anne got back from an expedition into the Deep Roads that had taken over two and a half months to complete and had ended with her encountering a titan. Shortly after coming home, she stood across the war table from Cullen listening to various recommendations and authorized the Inquisition to provide troops to a researcher that was searching for the previous Inquisitor’s remains in the Frostback Basin. In Cullen’s mind, it was a frivolous waste of time and resources as well as just another excuse for Annie to take off. When he decided to say as much, things turned ugly.

“You can’t seriously be considering pulling my men from recovery and relief efforts to chase after someone missing for the past eight hundred years,” he spat out. 

“There’s more to life than making war and patching things up afterward,” Anne challenged while her eyes blazed.

“That’s interesting coming from you,” Cullen countered. “From your actions, I’d say you believe the opposite.”

“Perhaps it would be best if we left you alone,” Josephine suggested as she inched toward the exit.

“No need, Ambassador. I’m done,” Cullen declared harshly before stalking out the door. He stormed out of the main keep, barked at the soldiers sparring in the training ring, and holed up in his office seething. After breaking a quill nib while angrily signing orders, Cullen tossed the papers he’d been managing aside and went to change into something suitable for running. 

When he came down the ladder from his room, Annie was leaning against his desk with her arms folded across her chest.

“I hate it when you do that,” he growled. “You’re liable to knock something off or spill my ink.”

“I wouldn’t have to touch your precious desk if you actually had somewhere for me to sit,” Anne snapped. “We’ve been in Skyhold for over a year and a half. In all that time, there’s never been an open chair for me here. I don’t even have a drawer for my things in your bedroom. You wrote me once while I was in the Deep Roads - _once_ , and then you throw a tantrum implying that I’m neglecting you?”

Cullen stopped short, and his hand flew to the back of his neck. Had he really only written her one time while she was away? _Maker, she’s right…_ he realized as his stomach knotted. 

Anne wasn’t finished with him and continued venting her frustration, “So are you going to tell me what I’ve done wrong? I’m tired of trying to draw you out, Cullen. You’re going to have to start talking and telling me what you want from me because I’m honestly at a loss. I tried coming home often - you pouted and pulled away because I could only stay a few days. I remained in the field longer, so I could string together a few weeks with you when I was able to get home. No difference. When I was gone, I wrote to you even though for every five letters I sent I got one back if I was lucky. What do you want from me?”

Cullen dropped his hand and sighed. “I want you with me … not across the Waking Sea, or in the Deep Roads, or in the Frostback Basin. With me.”

Anne threw up her hands and stared up at the ceiling. “And you think I _wanted_ to be away from you? If I didn’t have this mark, I _could_ have stayed here. Rifts don’t seal themselves, though,” she retorted harshly before putting her head in her hands and rubbing her temples. 

“I’ve mended nearly every remaining rift. The only ones left are in remote areas and may have even predated the Breach. You’d think people would be grateful, but with every one I close, support for the Inquisition wanes,” she said wearily. “I’m so tired of pandering to nobles that resent me more with each passing day. I’m tired of traveling and living out of a tent.”

“So why start another expedition? Why go traipsing after Ameridan’s corpse?” Cullen pressed.

“Because the Basin is an easy two or three day ride from Skyhold,” Anne answered softly. “Overseeing the expedition would give me an excuse to stay closer to home and more opportunity to see you.”

“Maker, I’m an ass,” Cullen admitted.

“Just a bit,” Anne agreed as she put her arms about his waist. “So are you going to tell me what you want?”

“Perhaps I should find you a chair instead,” Cullen replied while putting his arms around Annie. 

“And a drawer,” Anne reminded with a wink before standing on her tiptoes to kiss him.

************************

Cullen brought his horse to a stop and slid out of the saddle. Passing the reins off to one of his men, he gave a few orders to the soldiers he’d brought with him and began to climb the spiral walkway that led to one of the Inquisition’s camps in the Frostback Basin. _Annie wasn’t kidding about these feeling precarious,_ he thought as the trees that acted as supports for the scaffolding began to sway. Last reports had Anne working out of this camp. With luck, he’d be able to surprise her when she stopped by to refresh her supplies.

Since their argument months prior, Cullen had become more conscious of doing his part in maintaining their relationship. He had Gatsi clear away the pile of debris that had filled a corner of his office and put a sofa for Annie there. Rather than give her a drawer to use in his bedroom, he purchased a small dresser for her things. When she was away, he forced himself to quickly return her letters even if what he wrote seemed dull or repetitive. And most importantly, he came to visit her rather than always expecting her to come home to him.

His effort had paid off in spades. Anne quickly filled her new dresser with all manner of racy, lacy things in addition to her regular clothes and toiletries. She developed a new ritual of coming to his office after mid-day prayers to work on her paperwork while lounging on her sofa. At first, it was odd having Anne around while he gave orders and worked, but he quickly came to enjoy it. For one thing, it was exceptionally efficient. He didn’t need to wait for a runner to approach her with a question or request. He could simply turn and ask her opinion. She was also a pleasant distraction - humming quietly while she read and occasionally stopping what she was doing to share a story or observation. Her being near kept his thoughts on the present and kept the ghosts of the past at bay.

When she was away, he made sure to reply to her letters promptly, and the cartoons that he so loved began to reappear in Annie’s letters. He had been too critical of himself when writing her before. It didn’t matter that his letters all shared a similar theme of loving and missing her. She didn’t expect more than to know that he was doing well and thought of her. He wanted to do better than just meeting her expectations and pushed himself to include more in his letters - memories from growing up in Honnleath, recollections of his time in the Circles, thoughts on the direction the Inquisition might take in the future. From what Dorian told him, Anne more than appreciated his effort - rereading the letters nearly every night at camp and making everyone slightly nauseated by how she mooned over them.

When he reached the top of the long spiral walkway, Cullen was pleasantly surprised to see Bull, Dorian, and Sera. Bull held up a fist in hello and pointed to a tent that had smoke seeping from the seams. Cullen put his hands together as if in prayer, and Bull nodded. Annie evidently kept to her prayers even when on the road. _And I thought I loved routine,_ Cullen mused.

Anne was reciting from the Canticle of Shartan - dissonant verses that had been abandoned by the Chantry after the Exalted Marches against the Dales. Cullen smirked and kneeled beside her. He knew enough to recognize the canticle, but he couldn’t quote the text. Anne smiled broadly at his arrival and continued her prayers. When she finished reciting the controversial verses, he teasingly asked, “Feeling heretical today, Lady Trevelyan?”

“More than you can imagine, Commander,” she answered as her eyes twinkled before giving him a kiss. “We’ve learned Ameridan had a lover - an _elven_ lover who was also a mage.”

“The head of the last Inquisition bedding an elven mage? That’ll rattle more than a few Chantry headdresses,” Cullen laughed.

“Oh, it gets better … they built an altar in an ancient Tevinter fort near here. It had both Andraste and Ghilan’nain,” Anne giggled.

“You’re relishing how Cassandra - I mean Divine Victoria - is going to react to this news - aren’t you?” Cullen asked.

“Don’t you know it,” Anne chirped. “She’s already begging me to find an excuse to get her out of Val Royeaux. This will really push her over the edge. Serves her right for leaving me.”

“As I recall, you had more than a little part in her being named Divine,” Cullen pointed out.

Anne waved off his statement. “Details, details,” she huffed before grinning. “Really your timing couldn’t have been more perfect. I need your help planning an assault.”

“An assault?” Cullen asked while arching an eyebrow.

“You know the group that’s been causing problems with our soldiers and researchers - the Jaws of Hakkon? They’re holed up in a fortress northeast of here that’s coated in a giant wall of ice. I just discovered how to melt the ice. Now I need to figure out how to get past the fort’s other defenses,” Anne explained and then clapped her hands together excitedly. “Ooohhh, you’re going to get to meet Thane Sun Hair. She’s going to love you - just don’t untie any knots she offers you.”

“Knots?” Cullen queried.

“An Avvar marriage ceremony. The bride sings a song and the groom unties knots while she sings. However many knots you untie is how long you’re wed.”

“That seems… temporary,” Cullen observed.

“It is a bit odd, but then it makes sense, too. I would have been much more keen on an arranged marriage if I had known it had a definite end point. Of course, the Avvar don’t really do arranged marriages - it’s more akin to sanctioned kidnapping, but I digress… Anyway, just remember no knots,” Anne emphasized.

“No knots,” Cullen repeated then got curious. “Did someone approach you with an offer of marriage?”

“Avvar men are very forward,” Anne replied. “I _may_ have given them the impression that I’m already bound to you. I hope you don’t mind,” Anne admitted sheepishly.

“Not in the least,” Cullen smiled. _I’d actually be glad if it were true,_ Cullen realized and then began to consider when and if it would be appropriate to ask Anne to marry him. They _had_ been a couple for nearly two years. It wouldn’t be entirely unexpected. Still she _was_ a noble, and he had no title outside of the Inquisition. 

“Something wrong?” Anne asked as her face creased with concern.

“What? No, nothing’s wrong … just thinking,” Cullen fumbled before he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and changed the subject. “So tell me about this Thane…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Squeezed out one more chapter before my vacation. I'll be back in a little over a week. :)


	21. Chapter 21

Cullen woke up groggy and slightly disoriented. His body protested vehemently when he pushed up on his elbows to look around the cabin for Annie. A smile inched across his lips as he spotted her bundled in furs and staring out the window while sipping tea. It was rare that she woke up before him. _The Avvar healing potions must have a sedative in them,_ he conjectured as he sat up fully and felt slightly faint.

Annie turned toward him and smiled. “Careful, those Avvar herbs pack a wallop. My legs nearly gave out beneath me when I used some after the fight against Gurd,” she warned before walking back to bed and climbing in beside him. Kissing his bare shoulders before examining him closely, she added, “You’re not allowed to give me another scare like that.”

“I’ll try my best,” Cullen smirked. He had taken a hard blow that knocked him unconscious when helping Annie kill a dragon that was possessed by the spirit of an Avvar god. “I’ll admit I’m disappointed that I didn’t get to see you end it, though.”

“There are plenty of other dragons we could take on,” Anne teased, and Cullen groaned while shaking his head. She knew and agreed with his assertion that dragon hunting was best left to professionals although she had been forced to fight a few out of necessity.

“You have several stacks of reports waiting,” Anne announced while gesturing toward a table. “Is it just me or has the amount of paperwork actually gone up since we’re no longer at war?”

Cullen chuckled. She wasn’t wrong. “Now we fight the true horror - _bureaucracy_ ,” Cullen teased as Annie leaned her head against him and sighed.

“The Thane is throwing a victory celebration tonight. I wonder if their ales are as potent as their healing tonics,” Anne remarked before gently pushing Cullen back down on the bed and cuddling up to his chest as if to go back to sleep.

“I thought I had paperwork,” Cullen playfully protested.

“Priorities,” Anne said succinctly. “Nap first. Bullshit later.”

************************  
The ales were strong and the food was heavy at the party held in Anne’s honor later that night. She was adopted into the clan and even given a legend mark “First Thaw” for her help in defeating the Jaws of Hakkon. The Thane then made a big show of presenting Anne with a small hut to be used while they were with the clan. Cullen didn’t understand why they needed to change cabins. The one they had been given earlier was just fine.

After the ceremony, Anne was swarmed by a group of young women most of whom had babies in their bellies or on their hips. The women formed a tight circle around Annie, who occasionally glanced over her shoulder at Cullen, as the women talked animatedly and gestured at him frequently. When Annie finally broke free, she was beet red as she made her way back to Cullen. 

“Mind telling me what’s going on?” Cullen quizzed.

Anne started laughing so hard that her shoulders shook. When she finally had a hold of herself, she said, “The Thane is having some fun with us. That cabin she asked us to use tonight has a specific purpose. It’s a _love shack_ of sorts.”

“A love shack?” Cullen smirked while sliding his hand under the table and along her thigh.

“Careful, Commander, the hut is dedicated to Rilla of the Fireside,” Anne warned.

“And who is this Rilla that she should be concerned where my hands travel?” he quizzed while allowing his hand to dip down her inner thigh.

“The goddess the Avvar ask for help in conceiving a child,” Anne answered while turning pink again. “Newlyweds are offered the hut by the Thane. While there, they are expected to um… work on increasing the clan’s numbers and little else.”

“Remind me to thank Thane Sun Hair,” Cullen said with a wink.

Anne leaned close to him and whispered, “It’s embarrassing. Those women were talking about _positions_ and _tonics_.”

“Positions?” Cullen said with an arched eyebrow which earned him a small whack from Annie.

“The whole clan is under the impression that we’ll be having sex as soon as we leave,” Anne whispered.

“I hope they’re right,” Cullen chortled.

“You don’t get it. Those women will be stationed right outside … chanting and _listening_ ,” Anne rebutted.

At those words, Cullen went from aroused to horrified.

“And we can’t refuse the Thane’s offer of the hut. It would be the height of rudeness - especially since I turned down proposals of marriage from the clan. I evidently shunned two of her sons,” Anne winced. 

“I’d say we need Josephine’s help, but she was at a complete loss when Chief Movran started tossing goats at our battlements,” Cullen mused before shrugging. “I suppose we’ll just have to do our duty.”

“You can’t be serious. I _can’t_. Not with people _listening_ ,” Anne argued back in harsh whisper.

“I have an idea,” Cullen said with a twisted grin as he stood up and held out a hand to her. 

Anne looked at him warily but took his hand and followed him through the feast hall as a chorus of catcalls and hoots rang in the air. Before they reached the door, he stopped and leaned down to Anne. “Trust me?” he asked. Anne nodded and soon found herself thrown over his shoulder like a sack of flour. The crowd roared its approval although Cullen swore he could hear Anne cursing him under her breath.

Cullen didn’t put her down until they were inside the cabin. “What was that about?” Anne asked angrily. 

Cullen held a finger up to his mouth and pointed to the walls. Anne could hear the women twittering outside. Cullen mouthed, “Trust me,” again before moaning, “Oh, Annie,” loudly. 

The women began to chant but softly, and Anne guessed that their cheering squad was waiting to hear her reaction. Fighting the urge to laugh, she played along, “Oh, you divine beast,” she mewled. “Take me.”

They continued improvising sex sounds and staving off fits of laughter while the chanting grew louder. Cullen jotted Annie a note as he groaned his (faked) pleasure. _Let’s see if we can make them hoarse. Perhaps I’ll earn a legend mark of my own._ Hoping to make him famous (or infamous), Anne began to luridly describe what they weren’t doing.

Cullen wrote Annie another note as he made forceful grunting noises. _Are you quoting from ‘Swords and Shields?’_

_I thought you said you didn’t read romance novels, Commander,_ was Annie’s reply before she mouthed, “Busted.”

Anne climbed on top of the cavernous bed in the room and began to jump up and down. Cullen nearly doubled over with laughter as she put one hand in her hair and another on her breast and moaned after each bounce. It was hilarious and strangely erotic. Cullen joined her with the intention of helping her bounce but soon found himself grabbing her rear and pulling her to him tightly. Kissing her hard, he stopped playing like they were making love as he lifted up the dress she’d been given to wear for the naming ceremony.

When he reached to remove her smalls,his breath caught. She wasn’t wearing any. “Maker, I want you,” he sighed against her neck before stepping away. He wasn’t going to press her to have sex if she wasn’t comfortable with an audience. Anne whined at the absence of his touch and then removed her dress completely.

“What about…” Cullen questioned while gesturing toward the walls. The chanters were growing quieter clearly straining to hear. 

“I really don’t care,” Anne replied invitingly as she laid down on the bed and held her arms out to him. Cullen quickly pulled off his clothes and joined her - speaking his love as he kissed and caressed her body. He knew her every weakness and enjoyed hearing the real sounds she made during sex - sharp inhales when he kissed that one spot on her neck, tiny squeaks when his hand ventured between her legs, and contented sighs as he mouthed and palmed her breasts. Even if there was an audience, it felt like just the two when she purred, “Please,” and pressed her hips against him.

They rarely had intercourse when they weren’t at Skyhold choosing other ways to express their love when traveling because they relied on both a contraceptive potion and witherstalk to prevent pregnancy. The witherstalk plant’s sap had to be fresh to be efficacious, and traveling with a giant potted plant wasn’t easy or discrete. Cullen briefly considered reminding Anne that they were without the plant when she wrapped her legs around his waist, and he stopped thinking entirely as the chanters outside continued their frenetic song in the strange Avvar tongue.

Somehow the chanters knew when they were done, and their tune changed to one almost resembling a lullaby. _Perhaps one of their mages is communicating with a spirit that’s watching us,_ Cullen thought and then shivered. The Avvar had extremely disturbing practices when it came to mages - allowing the intentional possession of young mages by “benevolent” spirit trainers. Cullen quickly pushed that idea out of his head. He wouldn’t be able to sleep at all if he let the idea that he was surrounded by abominations take root.

Annie snuggled up to his chest and started to play with his medal of Andraste - something she did only when she was deep in thought. Cullen rubbed his hand up and down her back while intermittently kissing the top of her head. “That probably wasn’t the wisest thing we’ve ever done,” Anne said hesitantly.

“It’ll be fine, Annie,” Cullen reassured.

“What if they were working some sort of weird fertility magic?” Anne worried.

“I’m fairly certain they were,” Cullen replied and squeezed her tightly. “Annie, don’t start fretting.”

For a few minutes, Anne quietly fiddled with his medallion before she said, “But what if it worked?”

Cullen carefully considered his reply. He knew his own thoughts on the matter, but he wasn’t sure of hers. He thought about giving a vague answer, but Annie detested uncertainty even more than he did. He decided to simply tell the truth. “I’d be happy,” he confessed. 

Anne pushed up on an elbow and looked at him aghast. He wasn’t sure what that meant, so he added, “But I’d support you no matter your choice.”

“You want a baby? Why am I just now hearing this, Cullen?” Anne asked sharply.

“I um… thought you… uh… knew?” he offered weakly. “After the miscarriage, I told you I wanted children one day. If it’s possible, I mean… Maker,” he sighed as he sat up and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t want to upset or pressure you.”

“It’s alright, Cullen. I don’t feel pressured, and I’m not upset. I’m … surprised,” Anne replied while putting her hand on his upper back. “I knew you wanted children. I just didn’t know that you wanted them _now_.”

“It doesn't have to be now... I don't really have a timetable,” Cullen said as he reached up to grab the back of his neck. Anne took his hand and kissed his palm instead. He looked at her earnestly and breathed, “Marry me.”

“What?” Anne queried as her mouth dropped open.

Cullen groaned. He was such an idiot. Who lets something like that just slip out? There was no taking it back, so he pushed ahead. “I’ve been able to think of little else lately. Searching for the right moment to ask, and well… maybe there isn’t a right moment. Maybe there’s just a right person. You’re that person for me, or at least I hope you will be. If you would… marry me that is?” he asked with stumbling hopefulness.

“Of course,” Anne exclaimed as she smiled through tears.

“You will?” Cullen asked incredulously, and Anne nodded enthusiastically.

“You’d better kiss me quick before I start to ugly cry,” she advised, and Cullen quickly took her up on that suggestion as the chanters’ song ended and its singers departed.


	22. Chapter 22

As Annie nuzzled his neck before drifting off to sleep, Cullen couldn’t believe what had just transpired. He had completely botched proposing marriage, and she’d still said yes. It was nothing short of miraculous, and he couldn’t remember being happier. Then he started to worry. How would her family take the news that she was marrying a commoner? Did she expect a big wedding? What if the Avvar ritual _was_ successful - would they be able to arrange the ceremony in time? 

His fretting must have woken Annie because she patted his chest gently and said, “Together we’ve taken down dragons and demigods. We can manage a wedding.” Cullen chuckled. She knew him too well, so it came as no surprise when she added, “Do you want to iron out some details so you can maybe get some sleep?”

“If you wouldn’t mind…” Cullen answered sheepishly. There was no use in pretending that he didn’t want just that. She would know better.

Annie sat up and brushed her mop of hair out of her eyes. The jagged cut Sera had given her after Corypheus’ defeat had grown out to just past her shoulders and was every bit as unruly as it had ever been. Cullen loved her hair just as much as she hated it. To him, it was imperfect perfection just like her. She rolled her shoulders lazily and yawned before asking, “So what has you worried?”

“How will your family react to your marrying a commoner?” Cullen asked.

“Cullen, they know I’ve been seeing you for the past two years. I doubt they’ll be surprised or disappointed. Their reaction - good or ill- won’t change my mind,” Anne replied.

“But what if they threaten to disown you again?” Cullen pressed.

“Then let them. I’ve no need of a relationship with people that would be so petty,” Anne said firmly. “What about your family? Will they be okay with this?” 

“You write Mia more often that I do,” Cullen laughed. “They’ll be elated. What about the wedding though? What do you want?”

Anne thrummed her fingers and bit her lip. “It isn’t just my wedding, Cullen. What you want matters, too.”

“I know, but I never anticipated marrying. I don’t have any expectations. You on the other hand…” Cullen said while giving Anne a knowing look.

“Point taken,” Anne huffed. She gave him a wary, pleading stare before saying, “You asked for my ideal. Remember that.” Cullen felt slightly concerned that she would need to preface her thoughts with such a disclaimer, but he nodded. Anne took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut before saying, “Eloping. The sooner the better.” She opened one eye to gauge his reaction, and her shoulders relaxed when she saw he was smiling.

“Seriously?” Cullen queried. “I would have expected a guest list large enough to fill Skyhold. You’ve never met a stranger. Not to mention all the people Josephine would insist we include.”

“That’s just it. I don’t want to worry about leaving someone out or having people there for political reasons. I’m tired of parties and receiving lines. I want a wedding not a social event. Do you even think it possible? If Josie or Leliana catch wind…” Anne fretted.

“We’re going to Val Royeaux to see Dorian off in style before he leaves for Tevinter. We already planned to meet with Cassandra while there. If anyone will understand your desire to avoid a big to do, it would be her. We need only to keep our intentions private until then,” Cullen strategized. Hearing his plan, Anne squealed joyfully before hugging him tightly.

When she let go of him, Anne was crying. “What’s wrong?” Cullen asked.

Anne fanned her face with her hands as she tried to blink away her tears. “Nothing. I’m just happy. I’ve wanted this for so long, and it’s really happening… and I’m so happy,” she sobbed.

Cullen wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. “I love you, Annie - even if you're a bit of a Lucille,” he teased.

“You’re one to talk, _Stanton_ ,” Anne needled. Their middle names had become a running joke between them with Cullen calling her _Lucille_ when she was acting difficult or ditzy and her calling him _Stanton_ when he got moody or stubborn. 

Anne tilted her head looking for a kiss, and Cullen gladly obliged her before they snuggled under the covers and fell asleep with their arms and legs entwined and foreheads touching. Before dawn, they awoke to the Avvar chanting outside their hut again.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Anne wailed.

“It’s no wonder this hold is filled with children. Thane Sun Hair means business when it comes to making babies,” Cullen laughed.

“I enjoyed last night, but I really don’t want to risk it again. All things being equal I’d prefer to be married then get pregnant not the other way round,” Anne admitted.

“Certainly,” Cullen agreed. “Is there any way to make them leave?”

“I’ll try asking politely,” Anne said before getting cleaned and dressed. After taming her hair into a loose bun, Anne slipped on a heavy coat over her leathers and opened the door. The women chanters flooded into the cabin- pushing Anne to sit in a chair while they filled her lap with babies. Cullen, who was still in bed, was given a disapproving look by a woman who crackled with magic and then handed him a potion.

“What’s going on here?” Anne questioned as she struggled to keep hold of the children in her lap.

“Babies for luck. Potion for problem,” one of the woman reported in a broken version of the Common Tongue while gesturing limply with one hand, pantomiming drinking a potion, and then holding her hand erect.

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen exclaimed as he set the potion on the table beside the bed. “That isn’t the issue.” A woman with a child in a sling about her chest rolled her eyes cynically at Anne before exhaling her disappointment.

“I’m fine!” Cullen nearly shouted, but the Avvar women clearly didn’t believe him as one of them pushed the potion back into his hand. Anne intervened on his behalf.

“It’s me - not him,” Anne said as the women stared at her suspiciously. 

“Too much?” one of the women asked while grinding her hips provocatively.

Anne turned pink and began patting her hair. The women gave throaty guffaws, clapped Cullen on the shoulders, collected their babies from Anne’s lap, and headed toward the door.

“No more sex,” the mage declared angrily at Cullen before leaving. “You no want to shake baby loose.”

Anne closed the door and then slid down it laughing. “I can’t believe they thought that I couldn’t get it up,” Cullen griped still incensed at the idea. Anne snickered even louder.

A harsh voice rang out through the door, “No laugh. Shake baby loose.”

Anne covered her mouth and turned purple trying to contain her giggle fit when Cullen asked, “When are we leaving again?”

“As soon as we can saddle up the horses,” Anne tittered. “I don’t think I’m cut out to be an Avvar.”

*********************  
The trip to Val Royeaux was bittersweet. Cullen was thrilled to be marrying Annie, but he felt sad for her as well. She was especially close to Dorian and was dreading his departure. Bull was upset, too, although he hid it better than Annie. Sera had simply returned to Skyhold refusing to even acknowledge that Dorian was headed to Tevinter. Rather than owning up to his emotions, Dorian turned up the snark to the point Bull called him out on it.

“Enough, Kadan. _Katoh_ ,” Bull said in a voice so gentle that Cullen was amazed it came from the typically gruff mercenary captain.

Dorian inhaled sharply and quit complaining. He slowed his horse and then stopped entirely. Anne motioned with her head that Cullen and she should continued on and let Bull and Dorian have time alone. Anne sped her horse to a trot to give her friends more privacy before telling Cullen, “It breaks my heart that they won’t be together.”

“It wouldn’t be safe for Bull to go to Tevinter. Their countries have been at war for far too long,” Cullen explained.

“I understand that,” Anne hissed. Cullen flinched a bit at her vehemence. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I don’t want him to leave. I’ll be left with just Bull and Sera then. Bull’s gone with the Chargers all the time, and Sera is well… _Sera_.” Cullen chortled at her assessment, and Anne gave him a beady glare.

“Sorry, Lucille,” Cullen coughed, and Anne growled. He turned serious and said, “I am sorry, Annie. I’ll miss him, too.”

“I know,” Anne sulked before adding hopefully, “Maybe we could visit?”

“Tevinter?” Cullen asked incredulously. “I’m not quite sure they’d welcome a templar.”

“You aren’t a templar any longer,” Anne said turning one of his oft used phrases against him.

“I doubt that would matter to them. I’m not sure if it would be safe for you either. There are plenty of Venatori sympathizers remaining there,” he countered and seeing Anne’s marked disappointment quickly added, “Perhaps we could go to Nevarra or northern Orlais and meet him in a border town.”

Anne beamed at the idea. “Maybe he won’t be away too long. I thought Varric would be back but now he’s _running_ Kirkwall.”

“I still can’t believe they named him Viscount. I can hardly think of a worse job. That city is cursed and with Hawke on her way back home from Weisshaupt it’s only likely to get worse.”

“You really believe she brings that much trouble?” Anne probed.

“I _know_ it. She’s a walking disaster and that abomination she runs with … well, you’ve seen what he can do,” Cullen spat out.

“I’d forgotten about Anders,” Anne said quietly. “I don’t know how she forgave him.”

“Hawke has three things in spades - poor judgment, bad luck, and a big heart. I expect that’s your explanation,” Cullen offered.

“So what do I have in spades?” Anne flirted to change the subject.

Cullen’s eyes traveled wantonly down her body before he looked back to the road and said, “Slow horses,” before kicking his stallion into a gallop and taunting her to try to catch him.


	23. Chapter 23

“Ugh, please tell me you have need of me at Skyhold,” Cassandra groaned as she removed the large hat that marked her as the Chantry’s leader. 

“Not enjoying the new job?” Anne quizzed. Cassandra simply made a disgusted noise in reply. 

Unlike the cathedral which had an almost grotesque display of opulence, Cassandra’s quarters were sparsely decorated - even austere. The only part that wasn’t strictly functional was a small alcove with bookshelves from floor to ceiling that housed a ridiculously oversized floral print chair beside a window. From the deep indentations in the chair cushions, Cullen suspected that Cassandra spent the majority of her off hours curled in the chair reading her beloved smutty romance novels.

He was loathe to admit it, but he owed a great deal to Cassandra’s collection of racy reading. When his relationship with Anne was new, Cullen had sought Cassandra’s advice on how to properly court her. While he was merely looking for suggestions for dates or gifts, Cassandra had outfitted him with reams of love poems and stories. He had initially set them aside, but as things grew more serious with Anne, he began to consult them - for purely instructional purposes, of course.

Anne caught Cullen staring at Cassandra’s reading nook and elbowed him playfully. “Looking for your favorite volume?” she teased. He shook his head and gave her a warning glare, but it was too late.

“That reminds me,” Cassandra exclaimed. “Cullen, have you finished with Obeying Her Order? I was hoping to read it again.”

Cullen grabbed the back of his neck and started to purple while Anne held her sides and guffawed. When his final shred of dignity had left, Cullen cleared his throat and promised, “I’ll have it sent from Skyhold upon my return.” 

Then seeing an opportunity to turn the conversation to a less mortifying subject, Cullen took Annie’s hand and squeezed it while looking at her expectantly. When she smiled and nodded at his unspoken question, Cullen segued, “Speaking of romances... Annie and I would like to ask for a favor. Would you marry us?”

Cassandra’s eyes grew wide and her hands flew to her mouth in excitement. “Of course!” Cassandra nearly shouted. “We’ll have to check with the Chancellor for when the cathedral is available…”

“Actually, we were hoping that you might simply do it now,” Anne interrupted.

“Now?” Cassandra echoed in confusion.

“We don’t want our wedding to be a social circus. We just want to be married,” Anne explained.

Cassandra put a hand over her heart as her eyes grew misty. “That’s so romantic,” she sighed before putting on her hat. “I know the perfect place,” she announced before standing and striding across the room. When she reached the door, she turned to Anne and Cullen who were still sitting on the sofa and prodded, “You did say _now_ \- correct?”

Cullen grinned and offered Anne his arm. Instead of taking it, Anne’s hands flew to her hair as she checked whether her braids were still in place. Cullen’s eyes danced as he leaned down and kissed Annie’s cheek before saying, “Your hair is fine, Annie.” She lowered her hands and instead of taking his arm turned his hand over then kissed his palm before standing and smiling.

Visiting Cassandra at the Grand Cathedral had given them the perfect excuse to dress appropriately for their wedding without tipping off their plans. Cullen had worn his formal uniform, and Anne had chosen an indigo dress with belled sleeves and double lacing. As they followed Cassandra, Cullen snuck peeks at Annie. She was radiant. 

Cullen should have realized that the hopeless romantic Cassandra would indeed know the perfect place for the wedding, but it still took his breath away when she opened the doors to the small chapel she had in mind. The round room was ringed with stained glass windows that were ablaze in the sunlight. Unlike most Chantry art, the stained glass windows didn’t show Andraste but instead celebrated the Maker’s creation with the panels depicting stunning landscapes framed with twining plants at their borders. Annie gasped as she took in the view. He could tell that she was pleased as well.

Cassandra stepped over to two sisters that were praying in front of a small altar to the Maker and announced, “Pardon me for interrupting your prayers. I need you to witness a marriage ceremony.”

The women fell over themselves to accommodate Cassandra and then looked as if they might faint when they realized whose ceremony they were witnessing. “You’re the Inquisitor…” one of them managed to say, and Annie bobbed her head in reply. Annie started to chitchat with the sisters, but Cassandra cleared her throat and tapped her foot impatiently. _Straight to business,_ Cullen thought approvingly.

Cassandra pointed where she wanted Cullen and Anne to stand, and then smiled as they took their places. “When I first met you, I had no idea that we would become friends,” she began while looking between Cullen and Anne. “You have inspired me with your determination, faith, and selflessness. I have also been privileged to watch you fall in love. From the Inquisitor’s immediate fascination with the ‘tall blond in the funny coat’ to the awkward glances the Commander stole at her as we planned the Inquisition’s future, I knew I was witnessing the beginning of something special. And now I am honored to help you take the next step in your relationship. I cannot think of two people better suited to love and care for each other. May the Maker continue to guide your steps and bless your lives.”

Cassandra paused and asked, “Is there anything you would like to say to each other before the vows?” Feeling suddenly nervous and not at all capable of expressing his feelings, Cullen’s hand flew to the back of his neck, but Annie caught hold of it and kissed his palm as she so often did. 

Anne blushed and smiled before explaining, “I’ve never told you why I kiss your hand. When I first read your palm, I saw we were fated for each other. Every time I kiss your palm I say _So let it be_ , in my head - a prayer to the Maker to see that prediction to fruition. And now I stand before you, ready to pledge myself to your love and protection, and I say aloud, _So let it be._ ”

Cullen felt a lump in his throat at her words, but he managed to respond, “Everything we’ve been through … all that we’ve experienced was worth it, since it brought us here, now.”

Cassandra had gone completely misty eyed and had to take a deep breath before continuing. “The vows we say are simple, but the actions that will see them fulfilled are not. Each day you will have a choice to continue to love and care for each other. To remain loyal and patient even when it isn’t easy. I pray the Maker’s blessings on your union and that your faith will be strengthened as you share life’s journey together. And now, the vows…”

“Do you Anne Lucille Trevelyan swear to the Maker and the Holy Andraste that you will love this man for the rest of your days?” Cassandra asked.

Cullen felt Annie flinch at the use of her middle name, and he lovingly rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. He loved her - even on days when she was more _Lucille_ than _Annie_ , and he knew he would until the end of his days. Anne stared deeply into his eyes and squeezed his hands as she answered in a trembling voice, “I do so swear.”

“And now Cullen Stanton Rutherford, do you swear to the Maker and the Holy Andraste that you will love this woman for the rest of your days?” Cassandra repeated.

“I do so swear,” Cullen said with a smile that stretched wide as he brushed aside the happy tears that had started falling from Annie’s eyes.

“Do you have symbols of your devotion to exchange?” Cassandra asked.

Anne and Cullen gasped in unison. They had been so focused on not tipping their hand that they hadn’t thought to purchase rings. “We don’t have them yet,” Cullen admitted. “Is that a problem?” he asked hesitantly.

Cassandra shook her head while wearing an amused grin, and Anne and Cullen sighed in relief. Cassandra then extended her hands in blessing and announced, “I pronounce you joined in the Maker’s sight. May He never be far from your hearts and minds, and may He bless and guide your union,” before adding, “You may kiss.”

Cullen took Annie in his arms and kissed her gently. When their lips parted, he still kept his arms about her and whispered, “I just kissed my _wife_. I rather like that idea.” 

Annie beamed at his words and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him again. “Kissing my husband isn’t so bad either,” she agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short update. Flu has struck our house even though we got the preventative shot. Ugh.


	24. Chapter 24

Annie spun around playfully as they left the Grand Cathedral before rocking on her heels and coyly asking, “So, husband, what are our plans today?”

Cullen’s heart skipped when she called him _husband_ , and he broke into a love struck grin before gathering her in his arms. “Whatever pleases you, wife,” he answered with a happy glint in his eyes.

“Let’s see… we could go get lunch, do some shopping, catch a play,” she teased while running her hands through his hair. “I suppose we could go back to our room to change first,” she continued with a flirtatious lilt.

“Changing sounds good,” Cullen agreed before leaning in for a kiss. “Perhaps we’ll think of something else to occupy us,” he added while letting his hand venture from her waist to her rear.

“Cullen Stanton Rutherford, are you groping me in front the Chantry?” Annie questioned with faked horror.

“I suppose that I am, Anne Lucille _Rutherford_ ,” Cullen replied while giving her a small swat on the bottom to punctuate his using her new name.

Anne giggled, “Inquisitor Rutherford has a nice ring to it. Of course, Josie is going to be beside herself getting new stationary made.”

“I’d guess that won’t be the only reason she’ll be in a snit. Can you believe we pulled it off? I thought for certain we’d get caught,” Cullen gushed.

“Me, too. I’m so glad we didn’t,” Anne beamed as she took Cullen’s hand and began to walk toward the market district. “Listen, before we head back to our room, we should to stop by the herbalist … unless you don’t want to that is.”

Cullen’s brow knitted as he tried to parse Annie’s meaning. Sensing that he was confused, Anne rolled her eyes and explained, “I’m nearly out of potion, Cullen, and we’ve almost picked the witherstalk we bought when we arrived clean.”

“Good times,” Cullen chortled before squeezing Annie’s rear again. Anne sighed loudly and shook her head. “Sorry,” Cullen replied after clearing his throat. “I just find you distracting and tempting and… I really want to get you alone,” he whispered against the shell of her ear.

Anne shivered and then found her resolve. “Think, Cullen,” she ordered while putting a hand to his chest. 

He stepped back and squeezed his eyes shut. _What were we talking about? Maker, she smells good._

“Never mind,” Annie harrumphed before picking up her pace. “We’ll head to the herbalist.”

As they walked briskly through the market, Cullen snapped out of his lust-filled fog enough to weigh Annie’s words. “Wait,” he said while stopping and grabbing at his neck. “Were you asking me if I wanted to start a family?”

“I _was_ before I realized there wasn’t enough blood flow to your brain for you to make a rational decision,” Anne replied with annoyance.

“Wow, that’s uh… wow. Really?” he stammered in amazement.

“I know you said earlier that you don’t have a timetable, but maybe we should consider one,” Annie urged and then bit her lip. “But we don’t have to right away,” she added, “I just thought you should know that now that we’re married I’m more open to the idea.”

“Uh…” Cullen answered dumbly.

Anne giggled at his loss for words. “Come on. The herbalist is right over there,” she gestured and then cocked her head to the side. “Is that a mabari?”

Cullen’s head was still swimming from all that had transpired, so it took him much longer than it should have to respond but eventually he managed, “It certainly looks like it.”

“Why is he in a cage?” Annie wondered and then took off toward the dog. Cullen trailed behind her and stood silent as she questioned the merchant who had acquired the dog after its Orleasian owner had grown tired of the novelty of having such a large breed in her small apartment. Annie convinced the shopkeeper to let the dog out, and it had bounded over to Cullen immediately.

“He likes you,” Annie enthused. “Oh, we have to get him. Please, Cullen,” she begged as the dog howled its agreement.

Cullen looked down at the brindle dog. He was well muscled and intelligent looking - a fine specimen, but mabari were notoriously strong willed. Would it be willing to follow command? Seeing Cullen studying him, the mabari immediately rolled onto its back and whined plaintively for a belly rub. As Cullen scratched the dog’s stomach, he wondered what business Annie and he had getting a pet. Their life to that point hadn’t been conducive to having one. Still it seemed wrong to leave a fellow Ferelden trapped in Orlais, and things had settled down considerably in the past year. Cullen exhaled slowly and glanced at Annie who had her hands clasped in front of her mouth. 

“He would make for nice company,” Cullen said hesitantly before adding firmly, “But he’s not to sleep with us.” The dog whimpered pitifully at Cullen’s words, and Annie pouted. Cullen crossed his arms. He wouldn’t budge on this point. “We’ll make him a bed _of his own_. That’s my only condition if we’re to take him,” Cullen declared authoritatively.

Annie squealed excitedly and then rushed to pay the merchant while the dog hopped around at Cullen’s feet barking happily. An hour later, Cullen’s arms were full of items and treats for the dog. Were it up to him, the dog would sleep on an old quilt and have table scraps, but Annie saw things differently demanding that they get the dog its own bed, bowls, food, treats, and shampoos. Cullen knew better than to argue. Being a good strategist meant knowing how to pick his battles and this one simply wasn’t worth fighting.

“Thought of a name yet?” Annie asked as she perused some dog collars critically. 

“Whatever we choose, its name should be tough, masculine,” Cullen asserted, and the dog wagged its stub of a tail fervently.

Anne growled in displeasure. She wanted to name him _Dumpling_ or _Royeaux_. Cullen wasn’t about to let his _Fereldan_ dog be named after an _Ostwick_ specialty or an _Orleasian_ city.

“He’ll be serving in the Inquisition. Maybe he needs a rank,” Cullen contended.

“General?” Anne suggested excitedly.

“I’m not about to let a dog outrank me,” Cullen said dismissively while the hound howled sadly.

“We could call him _Rylen_ ,” Cullen said with a twisted grin. His second’s reaction to having a mabari named after him would be priceless.

“Rylen is your best friend, Cullen. If we have a little boy someday…” Anne countered, and Cullen gave her a quick sideways glance. Was she already setting aside names for their children?

“Hmm… I know _Sergeant_ \- a gritty veteran that has worked his way up through the ranks,” Cullen said decisively, and the dog barked its agreement.

“Can _Dumpling_ be his middle name?” Anne suggested, and the dog covered its eyes with its paws.

“Absolutely not,” Cullen stood firm. He wasn’t about to have his dog degraded in such a way. Annie pouted, and Cullen relented slightly. “Perhaps we could get you a pet of your own - an Orleasian purse rat -ahem- I mean _poodle_ or something similar,” he offered.

“Ooohh, I always did want a nug. I’ll talk to Leliana when we get back to Skyhold. She’s breeding them as a side business you know,” Anne chirped.

“I know,” Cullen sighed. He had to listen to the spymaster drone about the varieties of nugs and their peculiar mating habits more often than he liked. Still hearing about the nugs was better than enduring one of Leliana’s diatribes on shoes.

With the mabari named, Anne finally settled on a collar and asked the artisan to hand tool _Sergeant_ on the supple Antivan leather before giving him their temporary address to have it delivered once it was done.

“I think Sergeant’s collar is made of finer leather than half my gear,” Cullen complained while Sergeant strutted proudly at his heel. “Don’t get a big head,” Cullen cautioned the dog who whined his disagreement.

“Back home then?” Cullen inquired. While the packages he was carrying weren’t heavy, they were unwieldy, and he looked forward to setting them down.

Anne wrinkled her forehead. “We didn’t come here to get a dog. What am I forgetting?” she pondered and then announced, “Ah, yes,” as she headed toward the herbalist’s stall. Cullen followed after her and almost collided with Anne when she stopped short.

“So … maybe we just go with potion?” Anne asked while reaching up to fiddle with her hair. “I mean … we _are_ married now. Witherstalk is just so…”

“Awful and inconvenient,” Cullen finished for her. “I’ll be glad never to see that Maker forsaken plant or its sap again.”

“You _want_ to continue with the potion though - right?” Anne pressed and then frowned when Cullen didn’t answer right away. He hadn’t given much thought to when to start a family. They’d only gotten married that morning after all. 

If his hands weren’t full, he’d have been grabbing at the back of his neck while his mind whirred. He wanted children - but right away? Still he wasn’t exactly young, and they both wanted a big family. Matters in Thedas were relatively calm… On the other hand, Cassandra had hinted that she wasn’t sure how much longer she could protect the Inquisition from Ferelden and Orlais’ complaints. It seemed likely that she would have to call an Exalted Council in the next few months to address their concerns. If Annie were pregnant, would it be too stressful? When weren’t their lives stressful though? Would he even be a good father were he to become one?

His thoughts were interrupted by Annie’s soft touch on his arm. “I’ve got the potion. Let’s go,” she said before giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “This isn’t a decision to be made in the middle of a marketplace.”


	25. Chapter 25

Cullen stared at an oversized crate taking up much of the meager floorspace in his office. When his sister Mia had written to expect a delivery from South Reach in celebration of his marriage, Cullen had assumed that his family might send some linens or perhaps his mother’s well worn copy of the Chant. Instead it appeared that they had packed up enough items to outfit a small regiment. _I guess it goes without saying that they’re relieved I finally married,_ he mused while studying the wooden box for the best place to wedge a crowbar to open it. _Need to wait for Annie,_ he reminded himself as the childlike urge to peek at what was inside the crate nearly overtook him.

Annie arrived a few minutes later clutching her newly acquired (and already dreadfully spoiled) nug Dumpling to her chest. Sergeant, their mabari, clearly aggravated that he had to vie against a snorting, squealing rodent for his mistress’ attentions bared his teeth and uttered a menacing growl at Dumpling. Annie snapped her fingers at Sergeant and scowled before pointing to his bed. Tucking the stub of his tail between his legs, the war dog retreated to his pallet and whimpered woefully.

“I know, boy,” Cullen sympathized. “It’s a shame how easily we’ve been replaced.”

Annie snorted and rolled her eyes before petting the nape of her nug’s neck and cooing, “I’m not going to let them pick on you, my little Dumpling,” while the creature snuffled haughtily.

“Maker’s breath…” Cullen sighed as Annie fawned over her charge.

“You’re just jealous,” Annie huffed before rubbing her nose against the nug’s wet snout.

“That or slightly disturbed,” Cullen retorted while looking askance at Annie. _And I thought Leliana was crazy when it came to those overgrown rats…_ “Anyway, do you want me to open it?” he quizzed while gesturing to the box.

“Of course,” Annie tittered before sitting crosslegged on the floor and then motioning for Sergeant to come sit beside her. As Cullen struggled to pry the box open, Annie scratched Sergeant’s belly while muttering nonsensical endearments and urging him to play nicely with his ‘brother’ Dumpling.

“I’d think twice before putting that squeaker on the floor,” Cullen warned when it looked like Annie might set the nug down. “If I were Sergeant, I wouldn’t hesitate to take out the competition.”

“Cullen Stanton Rutherford, you should be ashamed of yourself,” Annie gasped before holding the nug closer to her protectively. Cullen chuckled and went back to assaulting the crate which was proving harder to open than a Dwarven vault.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Annie noted flatly.

Cullen gave her a withering look and then extended the crowbar toward her while saying, “Have at it.”

Annie stood, dusted off her pants, and passed the nug to Cullen (who held it well away from his torso) before taking the crowbar. She made two quick levering motions with it before the crate sprung open. Passing the iron back to her husband while wearing a smug grin, Annie scooped the nug from out of his arms and sat back down on the floor without a word.

“I’d loosened it for you,” Cullen mumbled under his breath before beginning to dig through the crate’s contents. He found a note from Mia first. 

“What’s it say?” Annie asked while trying to look over his shoulder. As Annie craned her neck, Dumpling snuffled the fur trim on Cullen’s coat and then sneezed sending snot and slobber over the back of Cullen’s neck.

“Ugh,” Cullen groaned as he started to reach for his neck but thought better of it.

“Whoops, sorry,” Annie giggled. “I guess Dumpling’s allergic. I’ll get you a towel.”

Cullen grunted and went back to reading the note while Annie clambered up to his bedroom and returned with a nightgown.

“No towels. You can use this,” Annie said while passing a yellow plaidweave gown to him.

Cullen gratefully took the gown (which he had always thought was hideous) and wiped his neck before handing the note to Annie. “I’m not sure what she means by the phrase ‘something from your past to help with your future,’ but I suppose we shall see,” he commented before pulling out handfuls of hay and rags used to keep the box’s contents from shifting in transit.

After removing some of the padding, Cullen’s hand hit something hard and seemingly wooden. Leaning over the edge of the crate, he reached in with both arms and pulled out a small piece of furniture wrapped in a quilt. Unable to contain her curiosity a moment longer, Annie sat Dumpling down on the floor before tugging at the quilt.

“Don’t make me drop it,” Cullen laughed before putting the quilt covered contraption on his desk. “Alright, it’s all yours,” he said while bowing aside.

Annie eagerly took off the quilt and then inhaled sharply. Mia had sent them a cradle. “Oh, Cullen,” Annie whispered before running her hands along the well worn but beautifully constructed piece before looking back over her shoulder at him expectantly.

Cullen grabbed at the back of his neck and winced. Part of him wanted to strangle his sister. The other was awed by her generosity. He remembered the cradle having seen both Branson and Rosalie carefully placed in it by his mother. He supposed that he had also been its occupant at one time. His siblings had fled their hometown of Honnleath during the Blight and had been unable to take hardly any heirlooms with them. The cradle was one of the few possessions that must have survived their flight. 

That Mia would share something so special with him was touching. It was also aggravating. Annie had caught a raging case of baby fever within hours of their wedding and had spent the past three months subtly trying to spread the mania to Cullen. He wasn’t against the idea of starting a family. He definitely wanted one _someday_ , but he was rather selfishly enjoying having Annie largely to himself after having spent the past several years sharing her with the rest of Thedas.

“Let’s see what else is in the box,” he said while trying to avoid the conversation he could tell Anne was wanting to start. To his chagrin, the remainder of the crate’s contents were in a similar vein - a pale yellow baby blanket crocheted by Rosalie, a naming day gown that Branson’s son had worn, and a patchwork toy bear made by Mia.

“While this is all lovely, it’s a bit presumptuous of them - don’t you think?” Cullen groused.

“Not really. My guess is they’ve heard and believed the rumors that our elopement was prompted by certain circumstances. They were just trying to show their support,” Annie ventured.

Cullen wrinkled his forehead. There _was_ a persistent rumor that a pregnancy had sparked Annie and his decision to marry. His own reticence to share personal information by letter meant that his family often had to rely on secondhand accounts for details about his life. After all he _had_ neglected to tell them of his move to Kirkwall or his having survived Haven. It wouldn’t seem out of character for him to not mention an unexpected pregnancy. _All the questions about Annie’s health in Mia’s last letter would make sense if that were the case…_ he considered. 

Annie put her hands around Cullen’s waist and nuzzled his neck before purring, “Wouldn’t it be nice to put these things to good use?”

“Yes, but…,” Cullen sighed before kissing her forehead. He felt as if he owed her an explanation for his reluctance since he had been the one to bring up wanting a family when they were dating. “I’m not quite ready to share you. I suppose I feel a bit like Sergeant does toward Dumpling when you mention wanting a baby,” he admitted sheepishly. 

Annie snickered and gave Cullen a quick kiss before pointing to Sergeant’s bed. The mabari was sleeping curled around her nug with the smaller animal’s snout resting on his neck. “I suppose you’ll come around eventually as well,” Annie laughed before giving Cullen a hug. “Thank you for telling me. You’re right - we haven’t had much time for just _us_. As long as this isn’t a permanent _no_ , I’m content to keep you to myself for a bit longer, too.”

“It isn’t. I promise,” Cullen said earnestly before turning back to the crate’s contents. “But we’d better find an inconspicuous place for this in the meantime, or those rumors will never die down.”

*********************

Cullen held a towel to the gash he’d created on his cheek when an excited screech from Annie had made him flinch while shaving. Walking over to see what had his wife so enthused, he noticed that she was so happy that she was bouncing - making the piles of papers on the bed around her tremor. Fortunately her morning tea was on the nightstand, or she would have spilled it with her celebration.

“What’s this?” he quizzed with an amused expression.

Annie couldn’t answer and instead squealed before throwing herself back on to her pillow and kicking her legs excitedly. When she finally regained the ability to speak, she squeaked, “Caleb’s coming!” before pushing a letter into Cullen’s hand. Patting her hair and trying to regain her composure, Annie grinned from ear to ear as she watched Cullen skim the missive.

“I’m glad he’s coming, but why would he wait until we’re at Halamshiral?” Cullen quizzed.

“Because that’s where he can help the most,” Annie offered. When Cullen arched an eyebrow at that explanation, Annie continued, “When Byron died at the Conclave, Caleb took over his network.”

“So he’s a spymaster?” Cullen clarified and then chuckled when Annie looked horrifically offended at his word choice. “Pardon me… _information broker_ ,” Cullen corrected.

“Yes, and an excellent one at that,” Annie replied.

“Don’t we have an entire cadre of our own? Do we really need more cloak and dagger types?” Cullen wondered aloud.

“We do have many agents, but I _trust_ Caleb,” Annie explained. “He’s my big brother. He’s always looked out for me.”

“You don’t trust our people?” Cullen worried.

“I do … to an extent. It’s just…” Annie paused and twisted her lips. “Leliana is very capable, but she isn’t foolproof. Look at what happened with Blackwall for instance. And while I think our people are generally trustworthy, spies have very flexible loyalties. Our large assortment of them is both an asset and liability, Cullen.”

“I’m getting the distinct impression that you think we’ve been compromised,” Cullen said while folding his arms across his chest.

“I’m certain we have. If we haven’t, then whomever is running intelligence operations for our enemies is incompetent,” Annie declared authoritatively before continuing. “Even our allies likely have moles here. It’s just the nature of the business.”

“That you recognize this and continue to give more resources to Leliana’s people than my own is infuriating,” Cullen started and then took a deep breath. Annie’s preference for covert operations had often been a source of professional disagreement between them, but they had long since pledged not to drag war room arguments into the bedroom. “Never mind,” he said while holding up his hands.

“I understand your frustration, Cullen,” Annie said softly. “But soldiers are some of the easiest people from whom to get information. A quick rifle through a desk or rucksack while an officer sleeps off the sedative you slipped him can provide more leads than months of eavesdropping at parties and palaces. And some grunts are so starved for affection that they’ll unwittingly leak all sorts of troop movements just to keep the conversation flowing with a pretty girl at a bar.”

“I’m sure I’d rather not know how you can be so certain of that,” Cullen sighed.

“Probably not,” Annie agreed. “The point is I need someone who can identify double agents and tighten loose lips. Caleb can do that.”

“You believe the Exalted Council is going to get messy,” Cullen observed.

“Absolutely. Meetings of this sort rarely end well for the party under scrutiny. I want to do everything I can to insure the Inquisition and us come out in one piece,” Annie said gravely before forcing a smile. “ _And_ I miss my brother. I’ll seize on any excuse to get him to visit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this update has been slow in coming. I'd promise another one soon, but I'm headed out of the country. My best guess is that my next installment will post toward the end of March. Thanks for sticking with me through this lull in my writing.


	26. Chapter 26

A faint smile crossed Cullen’s lips as he examined the bottle of brandy he’d smuggled underneath his cloak. Placing the bottle on Annie’s desk, he returned to unpacking his belongings. Even though they had been married for several months and never slept apart, Cullen hadn’t moved into Annie’s quarters until that evening. He liked how the small bedroom above his office allowed him to be easily accessible to his men in times of upheaval, and he relished having a space to call his own. Before becoming the Inquisition’s Commander, he had always shared a room - first with his siblings and later with other templars or soldiers. He was reluctant to give up his refuge, but when Annie expressed hurt over him not relocating his things, he recognized that he’d have to adapt to sharing a space again.

Years of living in barracks had necessitated that he accumulate few belongings, so there wasn’t much for him to unpack. Nevertheless Annie had cleared ample space for him in her once overstuffed closet by giving away piles of dresses and traveling attire. He still felt like an invader as he hung his clothes beside hers. Everything she owned - even her armor - was feminine. His well worn leathers, rough linen tunics, rust-stained gambesons contrasted starkly with the delicate fabrics and fine embroideries she preferred. The difference was even more marked when he sat his thick soled boots beside her dainty silk slippers.

Anne had sachets of dried lavender and rose hips hanging throughout the closet. While he loved the faint scent they imparted to her clothes, he was less than enthused about the idea of smelling like a flower garden himself. Shaking his head, he made a mental note to ask Annie if she could perhaps find something less _girly_ to use. Rylen was due to arrive in Skyhold later in the week to assume command so Cullen could attend the Exalted Council, and the last thing Cullen wanted to hear was his second-in-command’s commentary on his lovely bouquet. 

Exiting the closet, he was surprised to see Annie sitting on their bed drumming her fingers. She’d vowed to stay out of his way as he got settled, but curiosity had evidently gotten the better of her. “Checking up on me?” he asked with a wink.

“Maybe a little,” Anne admitted as she pushed off the bed and wrapped her arms about his waist. “I also wanted to make sure that you had enough room. I can get rid of more things…”

“There’s plenty of space, although I’d like you to reconsider these sachets. They aren’t exactly manly,” he ventured while holding up an offending pomade. 

Annie first furrowed her brow then twisted her lips as she pondered a solution. “How about cloves and maybe a few dried oranges?”

“Perfect,” Cullen assented. “Did you notice what I put on your desk?”

“No. What is it?” Annie quizzed before turning around to see for herself. “Is that what I think it is?” she asked in amazement.

“If you think it’s the Antivan brandy I gave you ages ago, then yes. I found it when I was packing up my room. You had me set it aside for a special occasion, but it seems like we’ve managed to defeat Corypheus _and_ get married without breaking it open. Perhaps we could enjoy it tonight,” Cullen suggested.

Annie leaned back against him before asking, “What’s the occasion?”

“Does there need to be one?” 

“It just seems that if we’ve waited this long that there should be,” Annie countered with a shrug.

“Let’s see,” Cullen mused running his hands along her sides while ghosting his lips along her neck. “It’s Friday. Is that reason enough?” he teased.

Annie snorted her disapproval, and Cullen chuckled while resting his chin against her shoulder.

“We _could_ celebrate that my clothes are hanging next to yours,” Cullen offered before lowering his voice to add, “Although I wouldn’t mind if those we’re currently wearing somehow found their way to the floor.”

Annie giggled at his advance and then turned to face him. “If someone had told me three years ago that my shy Chantry boy would become such a wanton flirt, I would have never believed them,” Annie teased as she began to unbutton his shirt.

“I learned from the best,” Cullen smirked before walking her backwards toward the bed.

“What about the brandy?” Annie quizzed.

“You’re right. We should save it for a special occassion,” Cullen replied as he tugged off the shift Annie was wearing.

“Have I ever told you how much I adore the way you think?” Annie hummed as she finished undoing Cullen’s shirt and began on the laces of his trousers.

“You’ve mentioned that a few times … along with other things,” Cullen said cockily as he unfastened her breast band one handed then rubbed her back where the fabric had cinched most tightly.

“Like that,” Annie purred as she arched toward him.

“Mmm hmmm,” Cullen concurred as he trailed kisses along her neck and body.

“And that,” Annie sighed as he kissed her belly and then giggled when he ran his lips over the ticklish spot just above her left hip.

“Maker, I love your laugh,” Cullen breathed before laying beside Annie and resting his head against her chest.

“And I love you,” Annie answered while lazily running her hands through his hair as he closed his eyes to concentrate on the sound of her breathing and the subtly sweet smell of her skin.

He stayed like that for some time, letting his hands drift along the curves of her body before he pushed up on an elbow and spoke. “I was considering things while I was unpacking,” he began as he traced her collarbone with a calloused finger.

“About what I wonder?” Annie replied with a saucy lilt as she ran her hand along the faint trail leading downward from his navel. Cullen inhaled sharply when she took him in hand and then gave a full throated laugh. 

“Not about that,” he asserted and when Annie appeared skeptical he corrected, “Well at least not _just_ about that.”

“So about what?” Annie asked as she sat up and leaned in toward him.

Cullen cleared his throat and fought the urge to grab the back of his neck.

Annie whistled sharply and then elbowed Cullen playfully. “Are you sure you don’t want to have sex _before_ the deep discussion you’re about to start?” she questioned.

“I don’t know … well, I think it’d be reasonable if…” Cullen stammered.

“Oh, brother,” Annie exclaimed as she flopped back on the bed. “This isn’t going to be a short conversation by any stretch of the imagination is it?”

Cullen sighed and laid back down. He stared at the ceiling organizing his thoughts before he spoke. “As I was packing up my bedroom, I wondered why I had been so reluctant to move in the first place. For all intents and purposes, we’ve been living together for the past two and a half years, yet I drug my feet on making it official even after we got married…” Cullen paused, and Annie waited. He was thankful that she had learned to give him time to weigh his words because he still got flustered when expressing himself.

“After wracking my brain, I realized that selfishness and fear were guiding my actions rather than reason,” he summarized.

“Fear of what?” Annie asked while craning her neck to make eye contact.

“That moving in with you might mess up things between us,” Cullen admitted.

“Like your desk,” Annie posited.

“What do you mean?” Cullen quizzed with a confused expression.

“You flinch whenever I get near it. It’s _your_ desk, _your_ space. Maybe you were worried I felt the same way about _my_ room. That I’d have these invisible boundaries that you weren’t to cross. I don’t by the way. I want you here even if it means tossing out half my clothes and my lavender sachets. I like you. I like being with you,” Annie encouraged. “Besides I have to hold out hope that someday you’ll let me near your desk.”

“What is this obsession with my desk?” Cullen grumbled.

Annie shrugged. “When I’d come to your office, I’d see you working so diligently and wonder what it would take to get you to clear your desk for me.”

“You mean stop working and notice you?” Cullen clarified.

“In a way,” Annie evaded before patting her hair and going slightly cross eyed. After wrinkling up her face apologetically, she continued her confession, “I meant what it would take to get you to sweep all of your precious maps and reports into the floor, so you could have your way with me on said desk.”

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen exhaled as he forgot entirely why they had been discussing his desk in the first place. “And you’ve been thinking about that for how long?”

“Longer than I should admit,” Annie conceded. “Way longer…”

“In that case, consider my schedule _and_ desk cleared tomorrow afternoon, Inquisitor,” he said in the clipped professional tone he had used with her before they were a couple. The shiver she made at his words confirmed his suspicion that her fantasy had predated their relationship. _Sweet Andraste but I adore this woman,_ he reveled as she pulled him on top of her for a preview.

Cullen had nearly drifted off into a post-coital haze when he remembered that he hadn’t finished the conversation he’d started before. Shaking Anne awake, he said, “I wasn’t done.”

She brushed back her mop of hair and apologized, “I’m sorry. I could have sworn that you came. Just give me a second to wake up.”

Cullen roared with laughter at her misinterpretation. “Not that, sweetling. I wasn’t finished _talking_.”

“Oh,” Annie yawned. “What’s on your mind?”

Seeing that Annie was barely able to keep her eyes open, Cullen decided to be brief. “I think we should consider building a house.”

“A house?” Annie repeated quizzically. “Cullen, we have a fortress,” she pointed out while wiping the sleep out of her eyes. “What is it you’re thinking?”

Cullen’s eyes lit up at the chance to explain himself further. “Skyhold is an impeccable defensive structure, but it isn’t a home. We have _one room_ in the entire keep that is strictly ours. If we’re to start a family, we need to consider where our children will sleep and play,” Cullen argued with the enthusiasm he typically reserved for favored battle plans and strategic goals.

Annie glanced at him out of the side of her eye and then rubbed her forehead. “I thought you wanted to wait on starting a family.”

“Well, I _did_. I may have been needlessly dragging my feet on that as well,” Cullen rejoined. “At the very least, I think we should consider remodeling this tower. If the stairwell was reconfigured…”

Annie fought back a smile and put a hand on Cullen’s cheek. “And you mean to tell me you’ve dreamed up of all of this in the hour or two it took you to move a few boxes and clear out your wardrobe?”

“It’s possible I may have been considering it longer,” Cullen sidestepped which made Annie guffaw.

“So where would you build this house, Commander?” Annie asked as she cuddled up to his chest and began to play with his medallion.

“That’s a good question, and much of the answer will depend on the outcome of the Exalted Council. That’s why I thought it relevant to address now.”

“You crack me up. You know that - right? I spend months twisting your arm to get you to move your belongings, and now you’re ready to build a house,” Annie teased. “Not to mention start a family.”

Cullen growled in response, and Annie kissed the faint freckles on his shoulder before cooing, “I like the idea. Actually, I _love_ the idea, Cullen. I just don’t know whether we can realistically pull up stakes.”

“If Ferelden gets its way, we won’t have a choice in the matter,” Cullen warned.

“The idea of our own place has a certain appeal, but I’m not ready to root for the Inquisition being forced to disband,” Annie observed.

“Consider it a contingency plan,” Cullen offered.

“So if we’re thrown out on our ears, we thumb our noses at everyone and build a little love shack by the sea?” Annie posited with a mischievous grin.

“Inland would be safer. Unless we could get on a small peninsula or perhaps an island. The water would be a natural deterrent…” Cullen mused, and Annie snorted.

“Maker, I love it when I get these glimpses into the gigantic chessboard in your mind. Always strategizing, my Commander,” Annie bragged before kissing Cullen’s cheek.

Cullen wrinkled his brow and looked earnestly at Annie. “So do you want to? The decision really should be yours…”

“Do I want to what, Cullen?” Annie asked with a twinkle in her eye.

Cullen sensed her being purposefully obtuse and quickly flipped over pinning her beneath him. He smirked in satisfaction as the hitch in Annie’s breathing told him she liked his aggressiveness. Taking his time to drag out each word as he kissed and nipped at her neck and shoulders, he drawled, “Do you want to stop playing around and start making a family?”

Wordlessly, Annie rolled out from beneath him, grabbed her bottle of contraceptive potion and tossed it over the balcony railing before picking up the bottle of brandy. She grabbed two glasses and returned to bed before saying, “I think we found our reason to open this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back from Italy. The trip was wonderful except for the part where I stepped off a curb into a pothole and broke my ankle. Even better, I hobbled around on crutches for a week before I made it back to the States and got my leg examined. Doh! I guess that's one instance where having a relatively high pain tolerance isn't in your favor.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is relatively smutty. You've been warned.

Cullen was in the middle of a meeting when the door to his office cracked open and Annie slipped through bringing with her the thick smell of incense from her mid-day prayers. He was initially confused when she didn’t take her usual spot on the sofa and instead pressed her back against the far wall while looking at him expectantly. As he resumed speaking with his officers, he recalled the promise he’d made the night before to clear his schedule (and desk) for her that afternoon. Suddenly aware he needed to wrap up the meeting quickly, he summarized his orders and dismissed his men before moving to bar the doors after they’d left.

As he locked the last door, Anne pushed off the wall and slinked within arm’s reach. “You said you’d have your schedule cleared,” she drawled in a husky, slightly accusing tone.

Irritated with himself for neglecting a promise, Cullen began to apologize, but Annie shushed him. “Do we at least have the next few hours free?” she asked hopefully.

The sultry grin that appeared on her lips when he nodded made his heart race. He was still confused, though, as to what she wanted exactly. He knew it had something to do with having sex on his desk, but he guessed there was more to it than that.

He walked over to his desk and began to neatly stack his papers when Annie told him to stop. “You can’t just clear it off like you’re getting ready to dust,” she protested while sliding between him and the desk. “You’re supposed to sweep it bare with your arm - impulsively, aggressively.”

“This is clearly a well developed fantasy,” he remarked with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Perhaps you could fill me in.”

Annie took his hand and guided him over to the sofa. After a minute’s silence, she began her explanation. “Once I was named Inquisitor, I looked for any excuse to come here to visit you because I was so overwhelmed by my responsibilities. You had this unwavering confidence in me, and I felt more sure of myself when I was near you.”

“It wasn’t misplaced, Annie. You’re a very good leader,” Cullen interrupted.

Annie smiled appreciatively before continuing. “I also had this enormous crush on you. Cassie would say that she noticed it almost immediately after our first meeting. Do you remember that?”

“It’s hard to forget. Demons were pouring out of the sky when an arrow whizzed past me and took out a shade that had flanked me. Thank you for that by the way,” Cullen answered with a wink.

“You’re quite welcome,” Annie beamed. “After the skirmish, I noticed you were handsome because honestly who wouldn’t?” Annie gushed and then began patting her hair. “But once you finished speaking with Cassie, you immediately went to an injured soldier and got him to safety. You could have ordered someone to help him, but you did it yourself. I knew then that I could trust you, and I started to fall for you.”

“Really?” Cullen asked, and Annie nodded.

“From that point forward, you were always kind and patient with me. You had this way of just being present. In the early days, I felt so lost - especially at the war council. Leliana would scheme. Josephine would chide. Cassandra would criticize. But you … you primarily listened.”

“I was trying to figure you out,” Cullen admitted. “You were intriguing. Just when I’d think I had a grasp on who you were, you’d do or say something unexpected. Then I’d be left scrambling to make sense of you.”

“Once you have me figured out, please let me know. I’m still not quite sure what to make of myself either,” Annie laughed.

“But we’re getting off topic,” she redirected. “When I would come visit you, you were almost always at your desk, but you were never sitting. You’d be pacing and prowling - this caged beast of a man - barking out orders and devouring reports. But here’s the thing, when I talked to you, that barely restrained rage and frustration disappeared. You were gentle and kind. The eyes which glared at your soldiers were soft and warm for me.”

“You weren’t the only one nursing a crush. Surely you know that,” Cullen said softly as he put a hand on her cheek.

“So while I fell in love with the sweet man with the gentle eyes, I’ve always wondered about that other man. The one that stalks the edges of the training ring making corrections. The one whose very presence makes his soldiers stand straight and fall silent. The one who never relents, who never settles.” 

Annie paused and pressed her lips together before looking at Cullen directly in the eyes. “I’ve made love to Cullen Rutherford many times. This afternoon I want the Commander to fuck me.”

“That’s uh… wow,” was the only response Cullen could manage at first. It took a few heartbeats for his mind to formulate something more eloquent. “We should set some ground rules first. I can be harsh with my soldiers. I’d never forgive myself if I hurt you or your feelings.”

“I know,” Annie said while playing with the hair on the back of his neck. “I trust you - implicitly.”

“Even so, I’d feel better if you had some way to signal if I went too far,” Cullen countered.

“Look at you asking for a safe word,” Annie teased. “Someone’s been paying attention when Bull talks about his exploits.”

Cullen felt his cheeks flush and retorted, “It just seems prudent.”

“Always so cautious, so careful…” Annie hummed as she crawled on top of Cullen’s lap and began to kiss his neck.

Sensing that he needed to make a point, Cullen grabbed her wrists tightly - not enough to bruise but enough to hurt - and growled, “What’s your word?”

Annie flinched and looked dumbfounded as he leveled a piercing gaze at her and repeated, “Your word, Annie. I need to know it.”

She made a small squeak before saying, “Lavender.”

Cullen smirked as he relaxed his grip. Clearly his request to replace her sachets had struck a nerve. “Alright, if you say _lavender_ , I’ll stop immediately."

“And yours, Commander?” Annie questioned before biting the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

“Ow!” Cullen yelped.

“I don’t think that’d be a very effective word,” Annie snickered.

Cullen rubbed the love bite and gave Annie an annoyed glare. “That’s going to leave a mark.”

“Worried your soldiers might notice?” Annie needled and leaned in as if she might nip him again.

“No biting,” Cullen declared forcefully, and Annie pouted.

“What if I stuck to places where it wouldn’t show?” Annie bargained.

“Annie, I’m serious. No biting. If we’re going to do this, there have to be some limits," Cullen said firmly.

She sat back and reluctantly agreed. “You’re right, of course. Do you mind telling me why, though?"

“It hurts,” Cullen replied succinctly. “And not in a good way."

Annie bobbed her head. “Fair enough. You still haven’t given me a word.”

Cullen closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. He wasn’t sure what would be a good choice. He knew it needed to be something that was easy to remember but that wouldn’t slip out inadvertently. He weighed various options and settled on one that seemed appropriately neutral. “Trebuchet,” he announced.

Annie roared with laughter. “Of course your mind would turn to one of those contraptions.”

Cullen scowled. Annie must have picked up on his irritation as she abruptly began backpedalling. “ _Trebuchet_ is an excellent choice. I can’t think of a single reason why someone would say it during sex,” she rambled.

“Thank you. That’s what I was aiming for,” Cullen grunted.

“Aiming… trebuchet….” Annie snorted, and Cullen rolled his eyes. 

“So let me make sure I’m understanding correctly,” Cullen segued. “I’m to be assertive and demanding. You want me to tell you exactly what I want and make sure you comply.”

"Yes," Annie agreed breathlessly and then flashed a brilliant smile.

"I can do that, but why does my desk needs to be involved?” Cullen prodded.

“Because that’s how I’ve always imagined it… I come in here questioning my chief officer’s decisions. He’s had enough of my second guessing and decides to show me that I need to follow his lead. Desk-clearing, torrid, passionate sex ensues, and I wake up with delicious aches in all the right places and your strong arms around me the next morning,” Annie explained enthusiastically.

“ _Torrid, passionate_ … no pressure,” Cullen chortled.

“I know you can deliver,” Annie flirted.

“I need a small concession from you. I don’t mind clearing my desk in some grand gesture. I’d just like to select what’s there first. I don’t want to cut my foot on broken glass or ruin the only copy we have of an intelligence report,” Cullen said evenly.

“It’s not exactly impulsive, but you have a point … I’ll allow it,” Annie said with a dip of her head.

“So you’re ready to go from _allowing_ things to having me totally in control?” Cullen questioned with an arched eyebrow. 

“I am. In fact, I’m looking forward to it,” Annie challenged.

“Good, then go back to our bedroom and change clothes,” Cullen announced while standing up and striding over to his desk. “I want you in a dress - one that laces. Also I’d want you to tie your hair back with the dark blue ribbon that is next to your washstand.”

When Annie didn’t immediately comply, Cullen looked at her sharply and barked, “Now!”

He was slightly worried when a shocked look washed over her face, but then his fears abated when she smiled broadly and chirped, “Yes, Commander,” before rushing out the door. 

Cullen wondered just what he had gotten himself into as he chose what to leave on his desk and then took off his armor. Annie might have fantasized about him in his full gear, but he doubted that she’d appreciate being pinned underneath it or having her skin pinched by the joints. Once he was down to his tunic and trousers, he rolled his shoulders as if preparing to spar and then waited.

Annie arrived a few minutes later. As soon as she entered, he circled her carefully as if she was presenting for inspection. Her hair was tied back neatly into a low ponytail by the ribbon he’d described. She’d chosen a dress that buttoned, however. He scowled and stood inches from her. “I told you to wear a dress with laces,” he observed nonchalantly.

“I preferred this one,” Annie threw back defiantly.

For a brief moment, Cullen considered relenting. He didn’t actually care how she was dressed, but he _had_ given a clear order which she willfully ignored. He would never allow such insubordination from one of his troops.

“Unacceptable,” he said flatly. “Go back and change.”

“No,” Annie said while tossing her head back and daring him with her eyes.

Cullen held up a hand and stepped back. He needed to make sure they were on the same page. “Annie, you realize I would never let someone under my command disregard such a simple order. There would be consequences,” he warned.

“Oh, I’m counting on there being consequences,” Annie pushed.

“In that case,” Cullen said sharply as he grabbed her dress and ripped it open sending buttons scattering about the room, “In the future, remember to dress as you’ve been told.”

Annie’s eyes went wide, and her mouth dropped open indignantly. She started to talk, but Cullen cut her off. “You aren’t to speak unless asked a direct question. Is that understood?” he asked while looming over her.

When Annie only nodded, Cullen growled, “The correct response is, _Yes, sir._ ”

Annie pressed her lips together, and Cullen could see that she was weighing whether to respond appropriately. “I wouldn’t recommend pushing your luck,” he snarled.

Annie trembled, and Cullen again felt concerned. He didn’t want her to be scared of him. Then he noticed that her chest and neck were flushed and her breathing was shallow. She wasn’t scared … she was aroused.

“Yes, sir,” she agreed deferentially while making fleeting eye contact with him before letting her gaze fall to the floor. 

He circled her again and asked, “What is it that you want?”

He saw Annie swallow hard before whispering, “To please you, sir.” While he hadn’t initially seen the appeal of this game Annie wanted to play, her breathy confession had him entirely on board.

“Good girl,” he praised, and her face lit up. He slowly walked away from her and was gratified that she knew enough to stay still. He dragged out his chair and sat down putting his feet up on his desk before cracking his knuckles and watching her impassively.

“Undress,” he ordered. “Slowly,” he added before crossing his arms.

Annie complied. First stepping out of her slippers, then reaching back to untie the ribbon that held back her hair.

Cullen tsked. “Leave the ribbon for now. I have plans for it later,” he advised and was delighted to see Annie’s breath catch once again before she slowly moved her hand away from her hair.

She slid one arm and then the other out of her dress and then let it fall to the floor. Cullen began to thoughtfully rub the stubble on his chin when he saw the racy lingerie she had on underneath the relatively plain dress. As she reached down to unhook a stocking from her garter belt, Cullen cleared his throat. “That’s enough for now. Come here.”

Annie smiled provocatively and sashayed over to his desk but stopped just short of being in arm’s reach. “I said, _Come here._ ” Cullen repeated as he lowered his feet to the floor in anticipation that Annie wouldn’t move nearer without being forced.

“Make me … sir,” she challenged only adding the title after a long pause. Cullen was glad he’d removed his armor so he didn’t have to worry about inadvertently injuring her as he leapt forward. She had a rogue’s quick reflexes, but he was able to catch her with little difficulty. 

“Annie, Annie,” he chided into her ear while letting his rough stubble scratch her cheek. Using one arm to pin hers at her sides, he languidly traced the lace outline of her corset with his free hand while he pondered his next move. He didn’t want to go too far, but at the same time, he knew she wanted him to be aggressive, dominant. Reasoning that she had her safe word, he decided not to hold back.

Pulling the bodice of her corset down just enough to expose one breast, he rolled her nipple between his fingers while grinding against her rear. She whimpered and pressed back against him eagerly. Holding her tighter, he whispered, “I’m trying to decide what to do with you … what you _deserve_ ,” while punctuating his last word with a sharp thrust of his hips. She moaned and wiggled her ass against him.

“You’ve told me what you want,” he continued while letting his hand find its way between her legs and discovered (as he suspected) that she was already sopping wet. “The thing is … I’m not sure you’ve earned it. You see disobedience has consequences,” he instructed while circling his fingers tantalizingly close to where she wanted them.

“Cullen, please…” she mewled as she tried to work one of her arms free.

He held her tighter. “I’m bigger, stronger, and faster than you,” he observed. “I could _make_ you do whatever I wanted.” When Annie made a strangled moan at his words, he smirked and continued, “The thing is … I don’t like forcing people to obey me. I prefer that they choose to because they trust me and know that I will take care of them.” As he finished his sentence, he stroked Annie in just the right spot.

Once she was panting, he moved his hand back up to her breast while she nearly sobbed in disappointment. “The choice is yours really. You can continue to test my patience, and I’ll leave you aching and unsatisfied as I see to my own needs while you merely watch. Or you can trust me, and I’ll make sure that needs you didn’t even know you had are met.”

“Cullen!” Annie gasped in a scandalized voice, and he was briefly concerned that he might have offended her before she purred, “For Andraste’s sake, why haven’t you talked to me like that before?”

Cullen stifled a laugh and briefly broke character to kiss her neck and confess, “I wasn’t sure if you’d like that.”

“Maker, yes,” Annie hummed. 

“Duly noted,” he remarked taking on his Commander’s tone again. “Now I need a decision from you. Will you stop rebelling and start following orders?”

Annie nodded, and Cullen shook his head. “I need words,” he reminded.

“Yes… please,” Annie begged. Hearing his typically independent and headstrong wife pleading for his attentions almost left Cullen undone. He had to summon his willpower not to simply press her against a wall and take her, but he’d made a promise - this was for her … her needs, her fantasy. He wouldn’t be selfish.

He relaxed his grip on her and turned her to face him. Caressing her cheek, he smiled and said, “Good choice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some day I'll work up the nerve not to simply "fade to black" - just not there yet. ;)


	28. Chapter 28

Studying the table’s wood grain as if it were a map, Cullen listened to his officers describe their duties and specialties to his second-in-command Rylen. Cullen found it hard not to interrupt and summarize just to get the meeting moving along. _We’d decided to speak over a meal in hopes of saving time,_ he thought as each of his subordinates talked longer than the next in hopes of impressing Rylen. 

Rubbing his forehead and wishing he’d taken something to prevent the headache he was developing, Cullen looked down the long banquet table toward Annie who was eating with Scout Harding and Leliana. They made fleeting eye contact before Annie blushed, bit her lip, and then quickly dropped her eyes downward. Cullen fought back a chuckle at her reaction and then noticed that Bull, who was sitting in the middle of the table, had caught their brief exchange and was looking amused himself. Cullen gave the Qunari a stern glare and then took a drink from his tankard.

When the last of his officers finished her presentation, Cullen said a silent prayer of thanks to the Maker and then called the meeting to a close. Rylen remained seated next to him as Bull sauntered over while Cullen’s captains and lieutenants departed. Bull turned a chair around before straddling it and resting his beefy arms on its back. _Trapped between Bull and Rylen … could this morning get any worse?_ Cullen wondered as he took in Bull’s lascivious leer and Rylen’s smart-assed smirk.

“I’ve heard the term _blushing bride_ on several occasions … never actually _saw_ one ’til I spotted the Boss this morning,” Bull observed with a crooked grin.

“Aye, his girl does look rather _satisfied_ ,” Rylen commented with innuendo-laced intonation.

Cullen looked between the two men and folded his arms. “Are you finished?”

“I’ve not even gotten started,” Rylen laughed.

“I’ll leave the two of you to it, then,” Cullen announced as he stood and pushed in his chair.

“Bah - sit down, tight-ass” Rylen grumbled. “I’ll save the rest of it for later when you aren’t in such a piss-poor mood.”

Bull threw his head back and roared. “And here I thought I was the only one with an insubordinate bastard as my second.”

“You’re the one who doesn’t know his parents, Chief,” Krem called out from across the hall.

Cullen shook his head and sat back down. “Alright, get it out of your systems,” he sighed.

“Sucked the fun right out of it,” Rylen complained before needling, “Are you at least up for a spar and some ale after we get the rosters settled - or do I have to ask the missus?”

“The _missus_ isn’t in the habit of dictating what her husband does in his off-time,” Annie snipped having moved within earshot of the conversation without anyone noticing.

Rylen paled and sat ramrod straight while Cullen took his chance to laugh. Annie placed a small vial in front of Cullen before remarking, “It looks like you might be needing this more than me.”

Cullen rubbed the back of Annie’s thigh absent-mindedly as he thanked her for the headache remedy and then accepted a quick kiss to his forehead. "Play nicely, boys,” Annie warned her eyes darting between Bull and Rylen before sashaying toward Josephine’s office.

“I don’t know whether to be nauseated, jealous, or both,” Rylen commented drily. “You found yourself a good one.”

“That I did,” Cullen gloated as he watched Annie’s retreating form appreciatively. “So duty rosters?” he segued.

“Aye, duty rosters…” Rylen grumbled.

**********************  
Cullen mentally castigated himself for having grown complacent in his training regimen as he shook Rylen’s hand and acknowledged having lost their spar.

“And the better man wins again,” Rylen bragged before clapping Cullen on the back.

“Again?” Cullen retorted. “I can’t remember the last time I lost to you, Starkhaven.”

“16th of Bloomingtide, 9:40 Dragon,” Rylen reminded. “Of course, you were still recuperating from a fight with an abomination, but a man like me can’t be picky about his victories. You were limping before we even began this morning. How’d you get hurt?”

Cullen avoided the question, and Rylen clapped his hands together and guffawed. “Oh this is rich… the little missus softened you up for me. I’ll have to thank her.”

“I wouldn’t advise that,” Cullen warned.

“On second thought, you’re probably right,” Rylen conceded. “Tell you what, I’m buying our first round. We can catch up, and you can nurse your wounded pride.”

“Remind me why we’re friends again…” Cullen grunted.

“Because someone has to put up with me, and you’re a glutton for punishment,” Rylen sassed.

“Truer words…” Cullen mumbled before breaking into a grin. It felt good to have Rylen back at his side. His second was still a complete ass, but there wasn’t another man he trusted more.

Cullen found a table near Sera’s room in the Rest while Rylen ordered their drinks. Normally he wouldn’t have considered venturing so close to the prank-loving elf’s home base, but she had already left for Halamshiral to work her network of “friends” in hopes of gathering information that might help the Inquisition’s cause.

Rylen appeared a few minutes later and plopped two oversized tankards down on the table along with a bowl of Tantervale “oysters.” Cullen made a sour face when Rylen offered him one and instead took a long drag from his ale. Rylen shrugged and popped the fried sheep’s testicle in his mouth before saying, “More for me.”

“I can’t believe you still eat those,” Cullen said with undisguised revulsion.

“You used to pop them back like candy until you found out what they were,” Rylen countered. 

“You could have told me sooner,” Cullen groused.

“I thought you knew,” Rylen shrugged. “Besides Fereldans aren’t exactly known for being picky eaters. You just boil everything until it looks gray, and call it stew.”

Cullen snorted. Rylen wasn’t wrong. Most Fereldan cuisine left much to be desired.

“Enough bullshitting, how are you doing?” Rylen asked. “That headache you’re managing isn’t something worse is it?”

Cullen rubbed his forehead and took another drink. “Just stress - not withdrawal if that’s what you’re asking.”

“It is. I like to know what I’m in for,” Rylen answered suddenly serious.

“You’ve completed the taper?” Cullen asked as his brows knitted involuntarily.

“Three months ago.” Rylen reported. “Took ages to work up the nerve to stop entirely. How you did it cold turkey is beyond me.”

“It wasn’t particularly wise. The templars I’ve helped since then have shown more success with a tapered dosage - that’s why I recommended it to you,” Cullen advised. “How have you been doing?”

“I never even saw a quarter of what you did, so the nightmares aren’t so bad. It’s more the hollowness, the itch… you know?” Rylen asked, and Cullen nodded. “The tremors got pronounced enough that I finally had to tell Kendra what was happening.”

“Good,” Cullen commented. “The more support you have the better.”

Rylen huffed. “Not everyone is your Anne, Cullen. Kendra’s father had problems with the bottle. She tried to stick by me, but seeing me in withdrawals just dredged up too much hurt. She broke things off a little over a month ago.”

Cullen’s heart sank on his friend’s behalf. “I’m sorry.”

“Me, too,” Rylen breathed. “Ah well, she would have wanted to make things official eventually. I’m not sure I’m the marrying type.”

“A large portion of Kirkwall’s female population would agree if I recall correctly,” Cullen quipped.

“Hanging out with you made picking up girls easy. They’d flock to your brooding angst, you’d rebuff them, and I’d swoop in to soothe their bruised egos,” Rylen reminisced before raising his tankard to toast, “To the good old days.”

Cullen raised his ale in agreement before countering. “Although as I recall it, the good old days were fairly awful.”

“Toe-may-toe… toe-mah-toe,” Rylen shrugged. “Ran into Roz last night,” he added while studying Cullen’s face for a reaction.

Cullen winced. “I’m not sure I want to be privy to what you’re about to say. The way things ended between you … It wasn’t exactly convenient to have to assign my two best officers to different ends of the continent. I _should_ have courtmartialed you both.”

“Bah! It wasn’t fraternization. We had the same rank, ran different units,” Rylen contended.

“It may not have been fraternization, but it certainly wasn’t wise. It’s best to keep personal and professional lives separate,” Cullen said without a hint of irony.

“I’ll make sure to tell the Inquisitor you think so,” Rylen retorted calling out his hypocrisy.

“You know what I meant,” Cullen grunted.

“Maybe, but here’s the thing - Anne was a Trevelyan. You can’t swing a dead cat in a templar barrack without hitting one. She knew the lifestyle - understood the demands, the sacrifices. Kendra’d never even seen a mage in action - much less one out of control. She had no idea what we did to ourselves to be ready for that threat. I can’t help but wonder…” Rylen broke off.

“You make a good point, but starting things up with Chambreterre again?” Cullen questioned. “I thought she was seeing some Marcher noble anyway.”

“It’s over,” Rylen said flatly. “That’s what we were talking about last night. He wanted her to quit the Inquisition, settle down, have kids…”

“Roz?” Cullen asked incredulously.

“Exactly,” Rylen laughed. “She dropped him so fast his head is probably still swimming. The thing is - she’s giving up the blue as well. Maybe we could … I don’t know help each other through it. Like you said - provide support,” he continued hesitantly.

“Finding support - absolutely. Finding it with Roz? I just don’t know… volatile doesn’t even begin to describe your relationship,” Cullen hedged.

“We’ve mellowed, and we both know what we’re looking for right now,” Rylen remarked.

“Which is?” Cullen asked.

“Someone who understands. Someone who won’t leave until the worst is over,” Rylen said quietly while tracing the lip of his tankard with his finger.

Cullen weighed his words carefully. Rylen assuming leadership at Skyhold put him technically ahead of Roz in the chain-of-command even though they shared the same rank and typically led the same number of soldiers. “I suppose if I kept both of you reporting directly to me it wouldn’t be fraternization,” Cullen mused, and Rylen grinned.

“Your girl is rubbing off on you in all the right ways,” Rylen enthused. “The guy I knew in Kirkwall would have shit bricks over such a suggestion.”

“The guy you knew in Kirkwall followed orders and policies for much longer than he should have. Just… be smart about it -okay?” Cullen admonished.

“So no necking on the battlements or sealing up my office for half a day shortly after she drops by?” Rylen teased.

“Exactly. You have to know people in high places _really_ well to get away with behavior like that,” Cullen threw back.

“You’re a smug bastard, but I’m happy for you … and Anne,” Rylen smiled.

“Me, too. Maker knows I don’t deserve her,” Cullen rejoined. “About Roz, though, you realize that I can’t keep her at Skyhold too long. Our people in the Marches need a firm hand, and she’s my best ballbuster.”

“I get that, but Roz is good about writing - unlike some people,” Rylen said accusingly.

“Now you sound like my sister,” Cullen groaned. “One more word of advice … be good to Roz. She’s become friends with Annie, and I shouldn’t have to warn you that my wife has a long memory and a short fuse. She won’t be keen to hear that the two of you are back together after what you pulled the last time.”

“It wasn’t one of my finest moments, I’ll admit,” Rylen acknowledged. “I told Roz that if we decided to give it another go, I’d keep my eyes from roaming.”

“Really?” Cullen asked in shock. “You’re dangerously close to acting like an adult, Starkhaven.” 

“Terrifying - right? If I don’t watch out, I might even develop a _good_ reputation,” Rylen snarked. “I’m getting too old to keep up with more than one girl at a time anyway. I blame Kendra for infecting me with monogamy.”

“You were loyal to her? You were together over a year. I’ve never seen you go longer than three months before stepping out,” Cullen said skeptically.

“I must be getting soft,” Rylen quipped. “In all sincerity, though, it was easy staying true to her. I thought … well, bugger what I thought … It’s just another thing lost to the Order.”

“To the Order,” Cullen said while raising his tankard. “And to those of us that left it. May we never get sucked back in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to dedicate a chapter to my favorite bromance. :) Cullen is totally Ted Mosby to Rylen's Barney Stinson.


	29. Chapter 29

Cullen banged his forehead against the door jamb as he listened to Annie admonishing him not to attend the Exalted Council session later that morning. _How can one woman manage to be so stubborn?_ he asked himself as he tried to formulate an argument to counter hers.

“Cullen, you have to understand that I lose all credibility when I am telling the Orleasian and Fereldan delegations that the Inquisition doesn’t pose a threat when the Commander of my forces is sitting in the same room looking as if he is about to murder them,” Annie explained while gathering her clothes from the closet.

“The Commander of your forces isn’t giving them that look - your husband is,” Cullen retorted. “Do you really expect me to ignore the insults they are hurling at you? They’ve maligned your character, your honesty, your intentions. Arl Teagan stopped just short of calling you a whore.”

“Arl Teagan is a withered prune,” Anne snipped while turning to face Cullen. Putting her hand against his cheek, she added, “And he’s getting to you. Please, take today off. Get out of this damned palace. Get some fresh air. I’d join you if I could.”

Cullen stared up at the ceiling and tried to harness his emotions. Logically, he knew Anne was right. By showing his anger, he was playing right into the opposition’s hands. He prided himself on keeping his feelings in check, but the vitriol hurled at Annie had eroded his self-control. Sighing, he looked down at Annie and said, “Alright.”

Annie stood on her tiptoes and kissed him gently. “Thank you.”

“You need to stand up for yourself, Annie. It isn’t diplomacy to let people belittle you,” Cullen whispered while tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

“But choosing your battles is. I know you want to protect me, but you have to trust that I know what I’m doing. When Caleb arrives…”

Cullen felt himself bristle at the mention of Annie’s brother. Caleb had promised to be at the Council, but the meeting had been in session for nearly two weeks without him appearing. It rankled Cullen that Annie placed such trust in someone who was obviously letting her down.

As if sensing his anger, Annie stated, “He _will_ be here, Cullen.”

“If you say so,” Cullen grumbled through clenched teeth. _Spies are never reliable,_ Cullen thought but wisely avoiding saying as he changed out of his uniform and into less conspicuous clothes.

**********************************

Later that day, Cullen absent-mindedly scratched the back of Sergeant’s neck as he waited for two older Orleasian men to finish their game of chess. He’d happened upon the pair while exercising in a park near the Winter Palace and had stopped to watch their match intrigued by the rapid pace of their moves. Cullen was so enthralled with observing the duo that he almost didn’t notice when someone approached the table where he was sitting and put down a board.

“Care for a game?” the man asked in the soft cadence common to Marchers hailing from Ostwick and the surrounding areas.

Cullen looked up, squinting past the sun’s rays to make out the silhouette of his potential opponent. “Certainly,” he smiled as the man sat down and began to ready the pieces. Once the man was seated, Cullen could see him more clearly. He appeared to be around Cullen’s age and was dressed in the simple style favored by tradesmen. His hair was coarse and unruly, and his eyes were a subtle shade of green. Something about the man seemed familiar to Cullen, but he shrugged it off. All Marchers seemed alike.

After making his opening move, the man looked closely at Sergeant before asking, “Is that a mabari?”

Cullen grinned and patted Sergeant’s back. “He is.”

“So you must be Fereldan . Are you here with their delegation?” the man asked while nodding toward the Winter Palace.

“No,” Cullen answered briefly purposefully omitting that he _was_ with another delegation. The last thing he wanted was to field questions about the Inquisition.

“Not many Fereldans can stomach Orlais - much less Halamshiral. What brings you here?” the man prodded after several minutes of silence.

“My wife is here on business,” Cullen evaded as he captured his opponent’s knight.

“Ah, is she a merchant then?” the man quizzed.

“No,” Cullen answered flatly and was perplexed when the man grinned widely at his response.

“Well, one thing’s for certain - you aren’t the leak. I doubt my sister could have chosen a tighter lipped fellow if she tried,” the man remarked drily.

“Your sister?” Cullen repeated quizzically. 

“I should introduce myself,” the man answered with a wink while extending his hand across the table toward Cullen. “I’m your brother-in-law, Caleb.”

Cullen shook Caleb’s hand and asked skeptically. “Did Annie put you up to this?”

“In a way … she asked me to investigate whether the Inquisition had any dual agents. My people and I have been working for the past few weeks toward that end - albeit without Anne knowing we were at the Winter Palace already. When I caught wind that you’d be skipping out today, I thought I’d seize the chance to meet you free of my sister’s supervision,” Caleb admitted before moving his cleric. “Check.”

Cullen glared at the board and moved out of check. “Annie thinks you’ve stood her up, you know,” he commented sternly while leveling a steady gaze at Caleb.

“It was necessary. Announcing my presence would have just drawn unwanted attention to me and my people. She’ll understand,” Caleb said with a shrug. “At least, I _hope_ she will,” he added with a hint of uncertainty.

“So what have you found?” Cullen asked while arching an eyebrow.

“Much that I expected - and some that I didn’t,” Caleb reported while leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. “For instance, your troops are considerably less talkative than typical soldiers. It’s almost as if their commanding officer has made a point of outlining ways their confidence might be breached.”

Cullen smirked and returned his attention to the chessboard. He _had_ made a point to include anti-espionage training in his troop exercises after hearing Annie describe how easy it was to get information from soldiers. It was gratifying to hear that his efforts had paid off.

“I’m sensing that is the only good news you’ll be sharing,” Cullen noted after seeing the tension in Caleb’s jaw.

Caleb nodded solemnly before flashing an eye-wrinkling grin that reminded Cullen of Annie’s. “But we’ll save talk of that for later when I meet with your war council. It’s your day off after all.”

“What are we to speak of then?” Cullen questioned already anticipating Caleb’s reply.

“My sister, of course,” Caleb threw back with a devilish twinkle in his eye. 

***********************

Caleb’s presentation to the war council left Leliana defensive, Josephine fretful, Annie shaken, and Cullen confused. The gist of Caleb’s findings was that his agents had been unable to locate hardly anyone in the Inquisition willing to defect or sell secrets. Cullen was still trying to figure out why that was a _bad_ thing when Annie began questioning her brother sharply.

“Are you sure that your people were adequately convincing? You weren’t trying to be cheap were you?” Annie accused.

Caleb didn’t even bother to respond to Annie’s question giving his sister a withering glare instead.

“Did you employ any other means?” Leliana asked in a tone that sent a shiver up Cullen’s spine. He felt certain that he would in no way approve of what those _other_ means might include.

Caleb’s eyes darkened as he responded cooly, “Of course. Your people were even less cooperative under those circumstances.”

Upon hearing Caleb’s reply, Leliana’s face hardened, Annie’s complexion paled, and Josephine eyes flashed angrily while Cullen grew even more perplexed by his co-workers’ agitation. 

Cullen finally decided to speak up. “It seems that you’ve found that our people are loyal, Caleb. I’m not certain why everyone is acting as if that is a bad omen.”

Leliana sighed dramatically while Josephine looked as if she pitied Cullen. Annie patted his arm gently and said, “A certain number of defections is expected, Cullen. If Caleb couldn’t elicit them, that doesn’t necessarily mean our people are loyal.”

“It’s more likely they had other allegiances already,” Josephine added with a deferential nod.

Leliana snorted before adding dismissively, “The most _loyal_ spies are often double agents hoping not to break their cover.”

“Maybe the Commander is right,” Josephine pattered. “Perhaps we’re reading too much into this. I’m certain Leliana vetted her agents…”

“Like she did Blackwall and Solas?” Annie snapped before tossing the map marker she had been holding down on the table. “Caleb, have you figured out who they are working for - Ferelden, Orlais, Tevinter?”

“We’re still trying to tease that out. I have my concerns…” Caleb hedged. “Your friend - Sera - remarked to one of my agents that the elven servants at Halamshiral are entirely too content.”

“Ah, an interesting observation,” Leliana chimed in while Cullen found himself once again lost in the subtext.

Caleb looked at Cullen and smiled. “You’re wondering why that is significant. You were once a templar. Tell me - when were the mages most complacent?”

Cullen’s mind flashed back to the relative calm Kirkwall’s Circle had experienced when a number of its mages and templars had formed a secret alliance to bring down Knight Captain Meredith. He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat before responding, “When they were hiding something.”

“Exactly,” Caleb replied.

“You said that you had some suspicions, brother,” Annie redirected.

“I do, but I’m sure you’ll dismiss them, sister,” Caleb retorted.

Cullen’s brow knitted as Annie threw her hands up in the air and began pacing before hissing, “Is there any place where you don’t see Qunari spies, Caleb? Your time in Seheron made you paranoid.”

“No, it made me realistic,” Caleb rejoined. “For several months, the Inquisition was receiving reports from the Ben Hassrath. You know how far their influence spreads. Do you truly believe that your mercenary friend was their only operative?”

“Bull is loyal,” Annie nearly shouted while pointing a finger accusingly toward her brother.

“The question is whether he is loyal to you or the Qun,” Caleb said pointedly.

Anne’s eyes began to fill with tears. “You weren’t there when he had to choose between his men and the Qun. There’s no way you would say that if you had been there.”

“Fine,” Caleb said while holding up his hands. “Setting aside the Iron Bull, look at my larger point. Why wouldn’t the Qunari want spies among the Inquisition?”

Cullen saw Annie’s eyes drop to the floor before she whispered, “Have you identified any?”

“I was hoping for some help on that front. I’d like access to Leliana’s personnel files,” Caleb began.

“No,” Leliana interrupted. 

“I can understand your hesitance, but” Caleb continued.

“No,” Leliana repeated before looking toward Annie. 

“Caleb, you are asking too much. You have to know that,” Anne whispered.

“Then at least have someone you trust look over them. I know you’re worried about Ferelden and Orlais, but they are showing their cards here at the Council. You need to be more concerned about the other players,” Caleb pleaded.

“I agree,” Leliana chimed in. “With your permission, Inquisitor, I will have Charter and Rector take a second look at our peoples’ backgrounds.”

“Pay particular attention to those that lived in areas with a large Qunari presence - Rivain, the northern Marches, Kirkwall…” Caleb advised, and Cullen’s stomach clenched at the mention of Kirkwall. He couldn’t begin to guess how many of the city’s refugees and elves had found solace in the Qun during the city’s occupation. 

“You mentioned _players_. Who else do you think may be involved?” Anne pressed.

Caleb shrugged. “That’s the most worrisome part. I don’t know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for how long it has taken for me to get back to this story. Thanks again for your patience.


	30. Chapter 30

Covering his mouth as he chuckled, Cullen shook his head at Varric’s descriptions of Hawke’s exploits in Kirkwall since her return. Some things - especially Hawke’s propensity for finding herself in outrageously unlikely and dangerous situations - never changed. Once he stopped laughing, Cullen took a drink from his tankard and smirked. He had been reluctant to abandon his duties when the dwarf invited him to the tavern for supper, but now he was happy that he had allowed himself the reprieve. A night out with Varric never failed to lighten his mood even if it did tend to test the limits of his alcohol tolerance.

Several stories and just as many ales later, Cullen stood up from the table when Varric began to gather random tavern patrons for a game of Wicked Grace. Cullen still hadn’t recovered from literally losing his shirt (as well as all of his other clothes) the last time he gambled and wasn’t about to repeat that mistake - especially not at the Winter Palace.

“I didn’t mean to run you off, Curly,” Varric apologized as he began to shuffle the cards.

“No problem, Varric. Ann … uh… the Inquisitor,” Cullen corrected himself, “will no doubt be wondering where I am.”

“Tell Slick that my offer still stands,” Varric replied nebulously which left Cullen wondering what exactly that offer was. There was no telling when rogues were involved.

After briefly stopping to hear a report from his duty officer, Cullen made his way to the apartments where the Inquisition delegation was housed. He sensed something was wrong almost as soon as he entered the bedroom. Annie was quiet, and she was _rarely_ quiet. He cleared his throat to announce his presence and was greeted by a weary sigh from his wife. Unsure if she was in a generally foul mood or specifically upset with him, Cullen tossed his keys on the nightstand before sitting down to take off his boots and subtly observe Anne.

As he untied his laces, Cullen noted that Annie must have recently finished a hot bath because she was flushed and had a towel wrapped around her hair. Her small form was swimming in one of his shirts as she attacked her legs with lotion - applying the cream with fast, violent strokes that gave away her anger. Since she hadn’t shot him any dirty looks, Cullen surmised that she wasn’t perturbed with him and broke into a faint smile as he walked across the room to get his shoe polish. He’d no doubt have to listen to an angry diatribe at some point that night, but it wouldn’t be directed at him.

Setting his polishing kit beside his boots, Cullen took off his uniform and hung it neatly on a hook behind the door, so the maid could locate it easily the next morning. If he was anywhere other than the Winter Palace, he would have worn the uniform several times before giving it to the laundress. Orleasians were finicky snobs, however, and he’d be damned before giving them an easy opening for jabs at his Fereldan “dog Lord” heritage. 

After tossing his wool socks and linen tunic in a hamper, Cullen sat on a trunk placed at the end of the bed and began to shine his boots while waiting for Annie to start talking. He heard Annie sigh again as she capped her lotion bottle. _Won’t be long now,_ he thought as she placed her lotion on the nightstand, tossed her towel toward the copper tub, and grabbed a hairbrush. As Cullen finished with his boots and placed them near the fire, Anne stood in front of a mirror assaulting her hair while glaring at her reflection. _She’s angry with herself,_ Cullen guessed and then wondered, _But why?_

“I don’t know why he has to be right every time,” Annie finally said with exasperation as she slammed her hairbrush down on the dresser. “Every… single… time…” she repeated with a marked staccato as she turned to face Cullen. “It just gets old.”

“Caleb?” Cullen ventured with a raised eyebrow.

“Of course, Caleb,” Annie huffed while pattering around the room collecting the clothes she had left strewn on the floor before taking a bath. “Earlier today Charter and Leliana reported on their findings about the number of our people that originated from areas with strong Qunari presence.”

“And?” Cullen questioned.

“And we probably have more agents and soldiers from those places than we should. On the other hand, both of us would be suspect based on where we used to live. Your time in Kirkwall, mine in Rivain…,” Annie answered as she tossed her clothes into the hamper and then sat beside Cullen.

“I even told them as much - that maybe we’ve been overreacting. Caleb sees Qunari spies as often as most templars suspect blood mages,” Annie continued and then winced at her words. “That didn’t come out right.”

Cullen stopped her from correcting herself further, “Annie, it’s alright. I understand your meaning. I’ve been unnecessarily mistrustful of mages at times.”

“But you’ve also been burned by those you chose to trust,” Anne added before rubbing her left hand as the mark there began to crackle.

Cullen bit his lip. There was no doubt that the mark was becoming more active and less predictable - not that Anne’s meticulous measurements left any question. A few nights before she had shown him a log that she had been keeping since the beginning of the Inquisition detailing the mark’s size, activity, and painfulness as well as how she had used its magic. In the past months, it had emerged from relative dormancy to being almost as restless as it had been when the Breach was open.

“Annie, perhaps you should…” Cullen began to bring up the mark, but Annie’s glare stopped him short. She had sought advice from countless mages and even a few templars about it. Outside of Solas, none had shown any understanding of its unique magic, and the elven mage had disappeared two years before. “You were speaking of the Qunari,” he segued.

“Right,” Anne nodded. “Three months in a Seheron reeducation camp made my brother prone to seeing Ben Hassrath everywhere.”

“And yet you asked him to investigate the Inquisition,” Cullen commented.

Annie again glared at Cullen. “Yes, because I _trust_ him.”

“But you’re questioning his findings…” Cullen pressed.

“I was until about two hours ago when Leliana’s people found a dead Qunari in full battle gear on the palace grounds,” Anne snipped.

Cullen stood up immediately. “Maker’s breath, Anne! Why didn’t you tell me earlier? I need to be increasing patrols,” he nearly shouted as he rushed to get dressed.

“Because I knew that was how you’d react,” Anne answered while holding up a hand. “We don’t know what’s going on. The Orleasians and Fereldans are looking for any excuse to label us as power hungry. Our response needs to be subtle.”

Cullen could feel his pulse throbbing in his temples. Annie was entirely too fond of diplomatic ruses and subterfuge. At times, he wondered why Anne kept him as an advisor when she so rarely took his advice. He sat back down and rubbed the stubble on his chin.

“I know you favor a more direct approach. In all honesty, I think a show of force would be prudent, but the _prudent_ thing isn’t always a winning move,” Anne said slowly.

Cullen looked at the ceiling and weighed his words. He’d have to approach her very carefully or she would reject him out of hand. “Allow me to increase details assigned to key members of our delegation. We can hand my people a stack of files to make them blend in with the paper pushers,” he said in a business-like tone before caressing her cheek and gently whispering, “Please, Annie.”

Anne twisted her lips and narrowed her eyes before nodding her assent. Neither of them were entirely happy with the outcome, but that was what compromise often entailed.

“You said there was a _single_ warrior?” Cullen quizzed. Qunari - especially members of their Antaam - were rarely alone. 

“I thought it was weird, too,” Annie remarked. “Caleb and Bull are working to piece together what happened.”

“Caleb and Bull?” Cullen asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Strange bedfellows …” Annie shrugged.

“More likely they want to keep an eye on each other,” Cullen snarked.

“That too. Caleb doubts Bull’s allegiance, and Bull doesn’t trust that Caleb won’t misrepresent his findings. Together they should be pretty thorough,” Anne explained as she pulled down the covers.

_Or at each other’s throats…_ Cullen thought but kept his opinion to himself. “So when can we expect their report?”

“Morning … unless things are worse than we thought,” Anne answered before cuddling beneath the covers and then blowing out the candle on her nightstand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really rusty on my fanfic writing, but I'm going to try to get this story to completion. Thanks for bearing with me.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Subtle Metamorphosis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8344819) by [Krs_Tea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krs_Tea/pseuds/Krs_Tea)




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